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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27016732">Smalltown Boy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaneuselou/pseuds/flaneuselou'>flaneuselou</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>One Direction (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>90's Music, Alcohol, Britpop, Closeted Character, Clubbing, Coming of Age, England (Country), Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mild Smut, Minor Character Death, Original Character(s), Pop Culture, References to Addiction, Secret Relationship, Social Anxiety, Strangers to Lovers, alternative universe - 1990's</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:41:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>106,401</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27016732</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaneuselou/pseuds/flaneuselou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 1998. Harry Styles is a weirdo. He's a musician-wannabe nerd with pop as his guilty pleasure who loves to hear songs about love, but has never really felt it. That changes on the New Year's, and it hits him like a train. Louis Tomlinson, a pretty boy from Doncaster, moves to his building and transfers to his school, apparently just to mess with his life.<br/>A fan-fic full of britpop, enough references to bore anybody and, of course, tea. Lots of tea. And stares. And cheesy stuff. (IN PROGRESS)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>65</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. "There Is a Light that Never Goes Out"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><br/>©louitomlinson</p>
<p>This is my first fic! I've been thinking and playing with the idea for a while until I heard this random song and boom. There it was, so I wrote the first chapter in 9 hours.<br/>To be really honest it's kind of inspired on certain personal experiences, so it's a story quite close to my heart.</p>
<p>I wanna give a massive thank you to all the people that actually took the time to read this first and gave me their thumbs up: Alisa, Robin, Avery and Elisa. Without you I probably would've kept this in the drafts. You're all amazing, thank you thank you thank you. Also a massive thank you to @louitomlinson (in tumblr) for making the best cover. You're a legend! &lt;3</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <b>Some important things to consider:</b></p>
<p> </p>
<p>- English is not my first language.  </p>
<p>- This is loosely inspired by many songs and films. </p>
<p>- There are plenty of references! If something is not historically accurate, it's probably just written to fit the story. </p>
<p>- While it is imagined in Manchester, and I do references to places, please know I'm not from the UK so there's like a 100% chance I got some places wrong. I borrowed names, but that's it. </p>
<p>- There are some triggering topics mentioned in this fanfic, such as homophobia, slurs, references to drugs/alcohol and violence/bullying. </p>
<p>- None of this is real or happened in real life. Nothing in this is meant to imply anything, nor does this reflect my personal beliefs about anything or anyone. This is fiction. The characters names are just mentioned to give the reader an inspiration of how they look like. (I kind of stole this disclaimer lmao)</p>
<p>Without further ado, I hope you like this little story. Thank you for reading this. And don't forget you're loved! </p>
<p>Twitter: <a href="https://twitter.com/flaneuselou">@flaneuselou</a><br/>Tumblr: <a href="https://tumblr.com/flaneuselou">@flaneuselou</a></p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <b>In memory of Michael Causer</b></p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>"i knew you,</i>
  <br/>
  <i>dancing in your levi's,<i></i></i>
  <br/>
  <i>drunk under a streetlight"<i></i></i>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sunset is about to start. Harry is nervous.<br/>
<br/>
Nervous as in <em>we’re-about-to-enter-the-last-year-of-the-20th-century</em> nervous.<br/>
<br/>
1999 already sounded like a good year before he started to think about how this also means he’s just about to start year twelve.<br/>
<br/>
Which, yeah, leaves him no time to actually think about his future.<br/>
<br/>
University is closer now. Fucking university. He’s been waiting to form a proper band but no one seemed to like that idea as a career choice.<br/>
<br/>
Harry has never understood how people can be so dramatic about it, as if you can’t change your mind in the future or go to uni when you’re older. He even thought of studying something related to music but everyone, even the school counselor, tried to talk him out of it.</p>
<p>“But what about law school, Harry?”, “Have you ever thought of going to med school?”, “Maybe you could be an amazing engineer if you study enough!”, were the most common “advice” he got.<br/>
<br/>
As if he hasn’t talked enough about how much he loves music, how much he wants to be a musician someday.</p>
<p>But tonight is not a night to feel anxious, tonight is all about having fun, letting go and pretending to be normal for once.<br/>
Either way, nervousness tingles on his fingertips as he gets ready, without trying too much and not trying at all on his look.<br/>
<br/>
There’s a party at Jane’s place, which is a few blocks away from his house. Harry has never been in a party before, at least, not a proper party.<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>Harry lives with his mom and his sister in a nice apartment downtown. Sometimes, his stepdad comes and stays with them, but mom doesn’t like to have him around too long. She’s still getting to know him, even though they’ve been together for almost a year now.<br/>
<br/>
She doesn’t want to pressure him into the family just yet.<br/>
<br/>
Harry’s mom and dad split up three years ago. Harry has always been ok with that, as he couldn’t stand more fights, and neither could Gemma. He actually likes his life with Anne and Gemma, just the three –occasionally four—of them.<br/>
It’s not like the thought of it weighs heavy on his consciousness, because of his dad. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t care, besides, he doesn’t call either. He’s probably ok about it too.<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>While “How Soon Is Now” from The Smiths sounds on his old radio, Harry is looking at his bed.<br/>
<br/>
A black and white striped shirt, a white shirt and a purple shirt look back at him. He can’t decide what to wear.<br/>
<br/>
The first shirt would look nice with his denim jacket, but also, he’d feel like Kurt Cobain while wearing it, and he’s not a massive Nirvana fan. The purple shirt, in exchange, is a bit too much. The white shirt is plain and boring but he could wear it with a flannel blue shirt he has, hiding somewhere inside his closet.</p>
<p>Gemma knocks on his door before coming in, without permission, of course.</p>
<p>“Are you ready? Sunset’s just about to start!” she looks at him and the bed and then, she realizes. “Oh, I see, going somewhere fancy tonight?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry blushes, he blushes quite easily. “To Jane’s.”<br/>
<br/>
Gemma smirks, “to Jane’s? You? Are you sure they invited you<em>?</em>”<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>Well, he knows he’s not popular enough.<br/>
<br/>
People always laugh at his jokes and sometimes girls talk to him during recess, however, he’s not that good at socializing.<br/>
<br/>
He barely can keep people’s attention when he’s talking, since he talks quite slowly and he’s, well, a music nerd. He loves talking about the great bands, even though lately it seems the world has been dominated by pop and techno rubbish. He just can’t help it.<br/>
<br/>
It always feels like people are talking in another language and most of the time, he gives up on trying rather quickly.<br/>
<br/>
But something changed. Two weeks ago, he was talking with Niall during recess on the last day of school when Jane Bennet came to talk to them. Well, to talk to Niall.<br/>
<br/>
“Niall!” she greets him, quite enthusiastically, “aaaand…”<br/>
<br/>
“Harry,” Harry nods, knowing she wouldn’t remember his name. Obviously.<br/>
<br/>
“Harry,” she raises an eyebrow. “Sure. Ok, I’m having a party at my house for the New Year’s. If… you wanna like – come over or something.”</p>
<p>Niall, crossed-legged on the grass, giggled just to the thought they were actually getting invited to the party. “Are you sure, Jane? Do you actually want people to see you talking to me?” he said, quite bitter.<br/>
<br/>
“Yes, Niall, in fact I do. You can bring him if you want,” she points at Harry, and he’s just as confused as he already was by getting invited to Jane’s house.</p>
<p>Jane Bennet, the Cher Horowitz wannabe, the “I’m not that popular it’s just that people like me” kind of girl. Who usually made out with Niall on the weekends, and completely ignored him at school. Of course, Niall couldn’t say no to some sort of make-believe seven minutes in heaven, but the fact that she always ignored afterwards hurt him either way.</p>
<p>“I think I’ll probably pass. Me and H have plans for the night, right Harry?” Niall looks at him, practically throwing knives at him with his glance.<br/>
<br/>
“I wouldn’t mind going out for a bit, as long as there’s good music”, Harry says, and he knows he’ll have to pay for that later.<br/>
<br/>
“Of course! I dunno if Nialler told you but I actually have good taste,” she smiles, and Harry finally gets the Cher similarity.<br/>
<br/>
She’s charming but being popular kind of ruins her reputation, especially since Harry’s the one to comfort Niall whenever she decides to ignore him. It’s a rare thing, a nice popular girl.<br/>
<br/>
“I guess I’ll see you there then, Niall knows where I live so he’ll take you there. Bring snacks! And dress nicely!” she says as she leaves, leaving both feeling confused and excited at the same time. A party to start the year. Sounds cool.</p>
<p>“I’ll ignore her this time. It’s a promise. I’ll ignore her and probably snog with Mary if she goes to the party,” Niall shakes his head, squinting his eyes. They both know that won’t happen, but Harry laughs anyway.<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>***<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>“So? You coming? Or should I ask the sun to wait for you to get ready?” Gemma raises her eyebrows, impatiently drumming her fingers on the door.</p>
<p>“Sure, I’ll go. Just give me a minute.”<br/>
<br/>
She smirks and shuts the door on her way out. Harry decides to wear the white shirt, with his regular black trousers and some black Converse. Looks for the blue flannel plaid shirt while dancing and singing to David Bowie’s tender voice.<br/>
<br/>
He feels good, his hair is on point (curly, not frizzy, long enough to push it back a bit) and his acne has decided to give him a break this week. He goes to the rooftop and Gemma is there, recording the view with her handycam.<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>She looks at him and laughs, “why so boring today, H? I literally would’ve lent you one of my cool shirts.”<br/>
<br/>
“Excuse me,” he frowns, “you pressured me so I picked fast. Besides, just wait for the flannel, it’ll look good.”<br/>
<br/>
“If you want to live in denial that’s up to you,” Gemma says as she moves the camera to Harry, zooming on his face. “What are your plans for next year?”</p>
<p>Harry has a plan so he daydreams a lot about it: one day, he’ll be in a cool band and he’ll play songs from underrated shoegaze bands. He’ll sing songs with beautifully written lyrics and if there’s time, maybe his own. He’ll probably need to live a little to do so, to get some trustworthy inspiration.</p>
<p>“M’not sure. Probably I’ll start smoking cigs, flipping coins, wear berets and write poetry about how depressing is to live with a filmmaker wannabe, as the musician wannabe that I am,” Harry can’t help but to laugh. “I also could talk about our eventual lack of success in both industries since we’re middle class and –“<br/>
<br/>
“You pretentious fucker,” Gemma hits him soft on his shoulder, as she puts her handycam down. “I’m not a wannabe, though. I’m almost a professional one.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know, I was just kidding,” Harry grins.<br/>
<br/>
“I mean, you weren’t wrong in the ‘eventual lack of success’ part. We’ll probably end up broke and we’ll –“<br/>
<br/>
“Starve? Yeah, I’ve heard that too.”<br/>
<br/>
She nods, “dad kept insisting that I should drop film school and find something better to study until I was in my second year so I hope you make a good choice, you know? No pressure.”<br/>
<br/>
“Are you implying that yours wasn’t?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not,” she looks at him, frowning. “I just don’t want you to be influenced by pressure. Do whatever you want to do to be happy, but also consider if you can be actually successful with it or not. That’s all.”<br/>
<br/>
“From what I see, you’re happy. That’s all the success you’re going to need.”<br/>
<br/>
“Happiness won’t get me jobs, H.”<br/>
<br/>
“No, happiness is just that. Happiness.”<br/>
She gazes at the sun setting behind the buildings, “I just know mum would be way happier if at least one of her kids would study something with a proper chance of actually working on it.”<br/>
<br/>
“What do you mean?”<br/>
<br/>
She looks at Harry again, “we both know I’ll end up working at McDonald’s, anyway. That’s what dad said.”<br/>
<br/>
“Who cares about what dad said? He’s not here. Besides, you won’t be starving if you work at McDonald’s, won’t you?”<br/>
<br/>
“I can’t survive on chips and burgers forever, H.”<br/>
<br/>
“But you won’t work there forever. You haven’t even – ok, let’s make a deal.”<br/>
<br/>
“Shoot.”<br/>
<br/>
“If I ever get to be successful in music, you can make my music videos.”<br/>
<br/>
She grins, “deal. And just have to let me try a ‘Sledgehammer’ kind of music video, at least once.”<br/>
<br/>
“Deal.”<br/>
<br/>
“Deal, then.”<br/>
<br/>
They both smirk as they watch the sun finally disappear, leaving a trace of a beautiful orange sky behind. Any promise made under the last sunset of the year is a true one. Unbreakable. Harry knows Gemma is extremely talented and smart, so there’s nothing to complain about. </p>
<p>They have watched the sunset, every last sunset of the year, for almost 5 years. It was Gemma’s idea. She thinks if there’s a date when the world might end, it’ll probably be in New Year’s. Harry loves the tradition, as it gives him time to think about stuff and to watch his neighbours get ready. He loves New Year’s Eve, just as much as he loves Halloween. Of course, they have traditions for Halloween too.<br/>
The sun is almost down as Harry wonders how the party will go. He has been rehearsing conversation topics on his head to avoid himself talk about dumb stuff. Maybe ask some random questions, he knows how much people love to talk about themselves. That’ll do for the night.<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>They come down as Anne has dinner almost ready. Beef wellington with Dauphinoise potatoes, and white chocolate biscuits with ice cream for dessert, Gemma’s favorite.<br/>
<br/>
“Is Robin joining us tonight?” Gemma sits on the table, eating one of the fresh warm cookies.<br/>
<br/>
“Nope, I told him to pick me up later. I wanna spend quality time with you, loves!” Anne smiles, as she washes the dishes.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, so Harry didn’t tell you he’s going out later?”</p>
<p>Harry comes out of the bathroom as his mom looks at him, raising an eyebrow. “Going out? But you never go out at night,” she frowns a little, same expression as Gemma when she heard about it.<br/>
<br/>
“I… kind of forgot to tell you, I’m sorry.”<br/>
<br/>
“No lovey, it’s fine. But… where are you heading up to?”<br/>
<br/>
“To a friend’s house.”<br/>
<br/>
“They’re not really friends, actually,” Gemma interrupts, hiding a smirk. Harry sends her a death stare.<br/>
<br/>
“No, we’re not, but she invited Niall, therefore she invited me.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s very nice, Harry! I’m glad you’re finally socializing!” Anne smiles again, Harry has always thought how much he likes her smile, how it reminds him of a warm, sweet cup of tea on a freezing morning. People often have told him he has her smile so – yeah, he feels great about it.<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>They have dinner with the telly on as background noise. People are excited, you can hear them shouting on the streets or blasting music by their window. It’s a nice feeling. Harry doesn’t feel that hungry as the time passes on and the party comes closer. Niall is supposed to pick him up at 10, but he’ll be around probably by 11.</p>
<p>He goes to his room, picks up his denim jacket and puts a cassette in his pocket just in case there’s not a good DJ at the party and they’re short of good tunes. Gemma knocks at the door again and she peeks out the door frame.<br/>
<br/>
“Ok so I’m actually quite excited you’re going out,” she smirks, “and honestly, I’ve been dying to do something with your face and I think this night is the perfect night for you to take a risk.”<br/>
<br/>
“Take a risk?” Harry barely looks at her, as he checks himself in the mirror. Gemma walks in with an eyeshadow on her hand. “Close your eyes, trust me on this one”. Harry frowns as he does, and he suddenly feels Gemma’s finger on his eyes, near his tear ducts.<br/>
<br/>
“Done! Look at you, you actually look cool.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry opens his eyes and sees himself in the mirror. He has subtle golden glitter on his eyes, and it looks perfect.<br/>
<br/>
“I actually look cool. You think people will say something?”<br/>
<br/>
“Nah, you look too cool for people to really care.”<br/>
<br/>
He’s still frowning, looking at that nervous kid looking back. He hopes no one notices. It’s not like he’s wearing makeup for other people. Gemma notices that he’s overthinking about it so she leans to hug him and pat him on the back.<br/>
<br/>
“You’ll be fine, don’t be nervous,” she mumbles.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not nervous,” Harry sighs, trying to play it cool.<br/>
<br/>
“Tell that to your face.”<br/>
<br/>
“Do you think I could use more makeup eventually?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, you should. It makes your eyes pop,” she smiles, nodding enthusiastically. “Ok, see you later loser!”<br/>
<br/>
She leaves to get ready for her own party. Gemma goes to lots of parties, of course. She’s the coolest sibling after all.</p>
<p>***<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>“What’s that on your eye?”, Niall asks, getting quite close to Harry’s face.<br/>
<br/>
“Golden glitter,” Harry pushes him, still a little bit insecure about it, but who cares. “Gemma’s doing.”<br/>
<br/>
“Fair enough,” Niall nods, smirking. “Looks cool.”<br/>
<br/>
“Why are you so awkward about it?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not awkward,” he frowns, “it’s just that I’ve never seen you with glittery eyes.”<br/>
<br/>
“You like ‘em?”<br/>
<br/>
“I do, actually. Like ‘em a lot.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry chuckles, “are you flirting with me?”<br/>
<br/>
“Jesus, Harry. Can I compliment you without you thinking I’m hitting on you?”<br/>
<br/>
“Can I make a joke without you being so awkward about it?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not awkward!” Niall chuckles, “you’re so –“<br/>
<br/>
“What? Go on, spill.”<br/>
<br/>
Niall shakes his head, occasionally glancing at Harry as they get to the first floor. The elevator opens its doors. Harry walks out, laughing, and suddenly bumps into someone.<br/>
<br/>
The first thing he sees are a pair of heavenly blue eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“Oops, sorry lad. Didn’t see ya’ there,” he says a little bit awkward, trying to laugh it off.<br/>
<br/>
Harry can’t help but to stare.<br/>
<br/>
Mouth ajar, in silence. His breathtaking beauty, mixed with this cute accent Harry can’t really put his finger on yet and his kitten smile just froze him in time. It’s like the world stopped at this exact moment when the sky looks blue before going full dark: the same shade as the boy’s eyes. The boy who just bumped into because, of course, he’s too clumsy to exist.<br/>
<br/>
“I know, I tend to be invisible.”<br/>
<br/>
That was fucking awkward.<br/>
<br/>
“Err, hi. I’m… I’m sorry. Hi.” he says, making the situation somehow even more uncomfortable. Fucking hell.<br/>
<br/>
Niall grabs him by the arm while the stranger smiles at Harry, clearly scanning the shit out of his features. “Come on mate, it’s rude to stare.”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>They leave the building, as Harry feels the stranger’s eyes in his back. <em>What the fuck was that?<br/>
<br/>
</em>“What the fuck was that?” Niall starts laughing, while Harry sighs.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m probably just high, or something.”<br/>
<br/>
“Are you high?”<br/>
<br/>
“Nah.”<br/>
<br/>
Niall chuckles, “is he your neighbour?”<br/>
<br/>
“I hope so,” Harry chuckles. “He’s probably someone’s family, I don’t know. Haven’t seen him around.”<br/>
<br/>
 <br/>
<br/>
Niall smirks, shakes his head and fasts his pace. That’s precisely the reason he’s his best friend. Niall doesn’t really care, and it’s not like Harry usually has crushes on strangers.<br/>
<br/>
The streets are loud and they walk to Jane’s party. People are already drinking and talking loudly, as midnight is coming closer. Harry feels fine, but he still can’t shake those blue eyes out of his system.<br/>
<br/>
And it was literally like a ten-second-interaction.<br/>
<br/>
As they get there, Harry can hear music from inside the house. Shit music. For fuck’s sakes.<br/>
Niall knocks, as he looks at him, expectation on his eyes. Of course, they’re usually never invited to cool parties. A guy opens the door, visibly drunk.<br/>
<br/>
“Yep?”<br/>
<br/>
“Is Jane here?”<br/>
<br/>
“She’s inside. Did she invite you?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry can’t help but to roll his eyes. He wants to leave already<br/>
<br/>
“Come on lads, I’m kidding. Get in, we don’t bite.”<br/>
<br/>
It’s a nice house, actually. Full of drunk teenagers and young adults, people he doesn’t know at all. Harry really really hopes he’s not wrong for coming over. He’s already missing his bed and his Walkman, and the invaluable peace of his empty room.<br/>
They walk in as people keep dancing to Steps. Fucking Steps. This is not what he was really expecting when Jane said she had actually good taste in music, but in some way he’d expect people like Jane knowing the full choreography to “5, 6, 7, 8.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know this one!”<br/>
<br/>
“Of course you do, you drive to school listening to the Top 40. I’m not even surprised.”<br/>
<br/>
“This is Top 40?”<br/>
<br/>
“What do you think?”<br/>
<br/>
Jane comes and says hi quickly but Harry can’t listen to her, since the music is too loud. She grabs Niall by the arm and takes him, leaving Harry alone.<br/>
<br/>
It’s him against the world.<br/>
<br/>
The Vengaboys are blasting through the speakers and it reminds him of how much he dislikes them. It’s repetitive, it’s boring. Also, he can’t help but to think of Gemma’s words.<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Pretentious fucker.”</em><br/>
<br/>
He kind of is, to be honest. ‘<em>What’s the use of pretending to be smart if you can’t even talk to people?’</em> Harry thinks. So, he forces himself to look for a familiar face. He tries to get into some groups and make conversation, moving to the rhythm of the music, but nothing feels right.<br/>
<br/>
Alcohol, he needs alcohol.<br/>
<br/>
He grabs an abandoned bottle of vodka and pours it into a red cup, to mix it with a little of strawberry juice. He loves sweet drinks, it keeps him up with the sugar and it gets him drunk. He’ll need it.<br/>

</p><p>***<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p><br/>“Did you know this song is about small dicks, right?”<br/><br/>“What?”<br/><br/>“Obviously, men got offended and they called it ableist. I don’t think it’s a big deal,” Harry says to Molly, a girl from Jane’s class, and he makes her laugh. “It’s basically the same thing we hear all the time about women and their bodies.”<br/><br/>“That we have small dicks?” she giggles.<br/><br/>“No, no. It’s – fuck, ok. I’m sorry, missed the joke completely.”<br/><br/>“I do think this song is catchy. Wanna dance?”<br/><br/>“To a song about small dicks?”<br/><br/>“Yeah?”<br/><br/>So there he is. Someone’s finally inviting him to dance but he’s having doubts about it. He never really liked to dance. He’ll feel like shit if he says no, though. He wants to dance, he hates to do it in public. He’s not that drunk.<br/><br/>“I mean it’s fine, mate. Don’t – answer if you don’t want to. I’m going to get a drink.”<br/><br/>She never comes back after that, obviously.<br/><br/>He’s really sucking at this.<br/><br/><br/>Niall appears out of nowhere.<br/><br/>“I’ve been looking for you! Sorry for disappearing but –“<br/><br/>“It’s fine, Niall. I can take care of myself,” Harry sips from his cup. He can’t. Not at a party. Not in <em>this </em>kind of party.<br/><br/>Niall laughs. Too loud for Harry’s taste and it’s not like he said something funny. “Do you know what time it is?”<br/><br/>“11:27,” Harry says, bit disappointed. Is this how he will receive his new year? Alone in a corner getting drunk to vodka and juice?<br/><br/>“Come on, join us!”<br/><br/>They go where Jane is and, finally, he’s able to make some conversation. Casual, not-related-to-small-dicks conversation and Jane’s friends are quite nice, but Harry thinks it might be the booze. Probably. Definitely.<br/><br/>He can't stop thinking about the song, so he giggles to himself. He finishes his second cup bouncing to “Music Sounds Better With You”, which in his opinion is a good tune for a change.<br/><br/>“Is Lou coming over? He left a while ago, he should be here by now,” a girl says, no, screams at Jane. Blessed be Harry if he doesn’t leave this place deaf.<br/><br/>“Probably, he left his stuff here,” Jane screams back, her arm intertwined with Niall’s. He has a dumb smile on his face.<br/><br/>Harry fonds a little, he’d love he’d like girls. Girls are nice, and pretty. He’s tried to like them at least twice, with no success.<br/><br/>His first crush was Leonardo Dicaprio –during his ‘Basketball Diaries’ days— closely followed by Damon Albarn when he was eleven watching music videos at MTV. Of course, he hasn’t told anyone about it, only Niall, but just because he found a Titanic poster under his bed. It’s not a big deal besides the fact that his classmates would bully the shit out of him if they knew, but that’s another story.<br/><br/>“There he is!”<br/><br/>Fuck. The elevator boy.<br/><br/>Madonna’s “Ray of Light” starts playing loud as he walks by, smiley and loud, greeting everyone in the group. He has messy hair, messier than the first time that he saw him, and a burgundy jumper. Green and purple lights play with his factions. <em>Is he even real?</em><br/><br/>“Where were you mate?” a tall blond guy asks, while he puts an arm around him.<br/><br/>“At my house, ‘twas hard to find this, really, the place is still a fucking mess!” the boy says as he looks at Harry and Niall.<br/><br/>He smiles, again.<br/><br/>“I’m Louis,” and Harry swears he can read his mind. They shake hands. A quick shake. Harry doesn’t know why he feels so weird around him already.<br/><br/>Suddenly it clicks.<br/><br/>He’s clearly his neighbour.<br/><br/>His mum mentioned it like a couple weeks ago, while Harry was watching tv. Some family was moving downstairs, as the Woods were leaving. He didn’t pay much attention, besides, it’s not like he knows any neighbour. However, he liked the Woods. They used to bake cookies often and the smell reached his window every single time. It was a nice smell.</p>
<p>And again, Harry gets caught up in his head, so when Louis says hi to them he doesn’t even say hi back.<br/>
<br/>
“Shall we, now?” Jane shouts, with a hand gesture pointing upstairs.<br/>
<br/>
The whole group nods, and Harry doesn’t know if it’s ok to go. He gets dragged by Niall and suddenly they’re all at Jane’s bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
It’s a cute big bedroom, definitely bigger than his. A few posters on her walls with pictures of her and her family. Everything is pretty cleaned up. Music still blasting downstairs. They all sit in a circle on the floor while they talk, but he doesn’t listen. It’s not like he knows the people they’re talking about. He sees a CD collection, so that’s his time to shine.<br/>
<br/>
He steps up and asks Jane if he can see her records. She has a mix of rap and pop cd’s, nothing of Harry’s taste besides than just a few. He’s a huge fan of the oldies, legendary bands like Fleetwood Mac or amazing singer-songwriters like Joni Mitchell. True inspirations. He likes britpop as well, but it depends on the day. His entire taste always depends on the day.<br/>
<br/>
“I’ve never been a massive fan of hip hop.”<br/>
<br/>
It’s Louis. He turns around and Louis is looking at him. A soft smile on his lips. Harry wants to say something, but apparently his tongue is no longer working. He looks at the cassette on his hands again.<br/>
<br/>
“Alright, I take it, you’re not a chatty one,” Louis comes closer and takes one of the CDs. “Don’t mind me, but I looove Oasis. This album is a masterpiece,” he shows him ‘(What’s the story) Morning Glory?’ on his hand. Oasis. He would’ve never guessed Jane was into them too. Harry never liked them that much. He remembers 95’ and giggles a little. Of course Blur won that battle. They sold way more albums.<br/>
<br/>
Harry still can’t help himself to have a normal conversation for once.<br/>
<br/>
“I think it’s too cheesy. I’m a Blur fan myself.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, fair enough,” Louis nods. Harry studies his reaction carefully, scared that he might scare him off.<br/>
<br/>
“What other bands do you like?” he asks, actually trying this time.<br/>
<br/>
Louis takes the edge of his jumper and pulls it up a little bit. He has a Stone Roses shirt. Finally, something in common.</p>
<p>“This album is a banger, honestly. I wish I would’ve seen them live when I had the chance,” Louis says, shaking his head slowly.<br/>
<br/>
Harry wants to speak but suddenly he’s interrupted by the tall blonde guy.<br/>
<br/>
“Lou, we’re about to light this thing up, come on!”<br/>
<br/>
Louis looks at Harry one last time and goes to the circle, while Harry just stands up there. Watching them.<br/>
<br/>
“You comin’, mate?” Niall asks, his arm around Jane, of course.<br/>
<br/>
“Nah, I’m good. Thanks.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry is not a huge fan of blunts, as he likes to be in control of himself when he’s not around people that he knows and trusts; Also he’s aiming to get wasted tonight, not to blackout completely.<br/>
<br/>
They start smoking while Harry keeps checking his watch.<br/>
<br/>
11:51. <em>Shit.</em><br/>
<br/>
He loves fireworks and parties as much as the next person, but this is his first New Year’s far from his safe place. Home. His mom is probably with Robin and Gemma must be dancing and drinking somewhere else, having genuine fun. Harry feels a bit sad, bit homesick. Last year he stayed up ‘til 3 am dancing to some cool tunes in his underwear. He had two beers and he got drunk quite fast. In his defense, he didn’t eat anything after dinner that night.<br/>
<br/>
He notices how Louis holds the blunt, laughing out loud every time someone makes a lame joke. Harry doesn’t know if his sense of humor is actually quite basic or he’s faking it, either way he’s loud. Loud, loud.<br/>
<br/>
And somehow, it doesn’t bother him. It amuses him to the point he can’t really look away.<br/>
<br/>
“Jesus, it’s almost 12!”<br/>
<br/>
“Come on, let’s go! I don’t wanna miss it.”<br/>
<br/>
“What is this music anyway? Come on Harry,” Niall shouts as they leave the room.<br/>
<br/>
He walks downstairs to find that people are still dancing, drinking and making a mess out of the house. Jane turns up the telly and they try to shush everyone, as they turn the music down.<br/>
<br/>
Harry can feel the excitement on his tummy, as if he’s feeling everyone’s excitement at once.<br/>
<br/>
He sits on the sofa with a fresh cup filled with vodka on his hand. He sees Louis across the room, always smiling, moving, talking to people. He wonders if Louis is a Pulp fan, even a Radiohead fan. He kinda looks like it. Nah, he’s too joyful.<br/>
<br/>
Oh, no. <em>He’s coming over.</em><br/>
<br/>
“Can I sit?” and he sits anyway. He notices Louis has a pint on his hand, and there’s a chill vibe around him. He looks like a decent person; someone he could actually talk to.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you having fun?” he asks, while he drinks.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, I guess,” Harry tries to answer over the loud volume from the tv.<br/>
<br/>
“You seem really shy.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry grimaces, “I’m sorry. I don’t usually go to parties, I’m – just not too fun to be around.”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t be sorry. You seem fun to be around, actually.”<br/>
<br/>
And for the first time in like, forever, Harry smiles. He sips from his cup and the vodka is kind of strong.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you nervous? The world ends next year,” for fuck’s sake Harry.<br/>
<br/>
“Nah, it’s already ending anyway. You should watch the news,” Louis drinks, and Harry visibly relaxes.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not a huge fan of watching the news, you know? Ruins my mood.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah. News can be quite shitty sometimes. I stick to the weather,” he laughs. It’s a melodic laugh. Like a giggle, but not quite. Harry can’t help but to chuckle too. He gets it, now.<br/>
<br/>
People start to countdown. This is it. 1999, everyone.<br/>
<br/>
As they count to one, people are already looking for someone to have their New Year’s kiss.<br/>
<br/>
“Here’s looking at you kid,” Louis grins as he raises his cup and gets a little closer. “Cheers!”<br/>
<br/>
Harry knows that quote. Casablanca, one of his grandpa’s favorites.<br/>
<br/>
They drink, staring at each other’s eyes, and there’s that blue again. Hypnotic color, indeed.<br/>
Harry feels sparks on his tummy. <em>Oh?</em><br/>
<br/>
He looks up and everyone’s either hugging, screaming, crying, laughing or kissing each other. Harry drinks again and giggles. It looks like a renaissance painting. If he were a painter, a good one, he’d definitely have a painting called “New Years at Jane’s.”<br/>
<br/>
He feels Louis’ gaze at his side, all smiley and cute. Harry looks back, his eyes betraying him and now he’s staring directly as his lips.<br/>
<br/>
And for a reason, time stops there. Everyone else in the room disappears.<br/>
<br/>
It’s like a soft shade of pink, quite velvety, and Harry blushes. <em>What the fuck, Harry?</em><br/>
<br/>
He looks up at Louis’ eyes. He’s staring at Harry’s lips too as his smile vanishes.<br/>
<br/>
He’s staring at his lips. Harry’s lips. The pretty boy with the hypnotic blue eyes is staring at his lips.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Holy shit</em>.<br/>
<br/>
Louis swallows, visibly. What the fuck was that. He looks at him and it looks like he’s about to say something, when a girl sits on his lap.<br/>
<br/>
“Here you are! Happy new year love!”<br/>
<br/>
And she kisses him.<br/>
<br/>
Just like that.<br/>
<br/>
In front of Harry.</p>
<p>Louis looks at him one last time before she grabs him and they go dance, completely ignoring Harry’s presence.<br/>
<br/>
Harry feels sick. Why this sudden intensity? He barely knows him. He literally just met him like two minutes ago. Harry puts his hands on his face and sighs hard. He hears Niall coming close.<br/>
<br/>
“Happy New Year, H!” he grabs him and hugs him hard, making him spill some vodka on the floor. “Let’s dance!”<br/>
<br/>
Harry doesn’t really feel like it.<br/>
<br/>
They join the group and Louis is there. The girl dancing and hugging him. The Charlatans singing and Christ, Harry loves this song. He tries to dance and looks like Charlie Brown doing so, but no one seems to care. He ends up drinking all of his vodka so now he doesn’t feel so off. Niall looks happy, so Harry feels safe in a way. No one cares if you don’t know how to dance. Someone taps his shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
It’s Molly. Harry feels embarrassed.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey, I was looking for you! Happy New –“<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, Happy New Year to you too,” Harry hugs her, bit awkwardly.<br/>
<br/>
“Wanna dance now?” Molly says to his ear. He’s practically deaf by now.<br/>
<br/>
And as if the universe decided to conspire against him, they walk and dance next to Louis. Lou’s hands on the girl’s waist, as she laughs. Molly is not a good dancer either, but it’s fun. Whatever ‘fun’ means at this point.<br/>
<br/>
Molly puts her arms around his neck and looks at him, face to face. This is so fucking awkward. And then, he feels it again. The electricity of Louis’ gaze next to him. Harry tries to move in order to have her not so near his face, so he turns her around. She’s still dancing and smiling, so she didn’t really notice it was a way to keep her away. Harry sighs in relief.<br/>
<br/>
Harry looks at Louis and he’s lip-synching the next song. Of course, it’s “She Bangs the Drums” by The Stone Roses.<br/>
<br/>
Harry also starts lip-synching, they meet eyes so it’s like they’re singing to each other. Louis has this adorable smile, it’s like he laughs with his eyes. He makes funny faces and, again, Harry can’t look away.</p>
<p>“I’m heading for a pint, want something?” Molly asks, and suddenly the magic of the moment’s off.<br/>
<br/>
“Sure, thanks,” Harry purses his lips as she leaves.<br/>
<br/>
Thank god they’re playing good music now. Harry dances by himself while he waits for Molly. He knows Louis is watching, again, he can’t feel it. He wonders if that’s possible.<br/>
<br/>
He closes his eyes, dancing, and finally he feels on his element.<br/>
<br/>
“Mind if I join?”<br/>
<br/>
Louis smiles at him, casually moving to the beat of the music.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, yeah. I don’t mind. Where’s –“ Harry asks , trying not to sound too excited.<br/>
<br/>
“El? She went for a drink, but don’t worry,” Louis says, as he dances in front of him. He’s a better dancer, for sure. And he loves this song. It reminds him the color green, and the lightning of the room makes justice to it. It’s a lovely moment.</p>
<p>“Girls and Boys” from Blur now is playing and Harry finally is having a good time. Louis looks relaxed, as they move his shoulders in sync with the song. The lights keep dancing on his features, as he suddenly takes out a cigarette and lights it up.<br/>
<br/>
“You smoke?” Louis casually offers him a smoke, but Harry shakes his head, smirking. “I figured.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oi, no smoking!!”, Jane shouts near them, and Louis laughs and turns it off with the sole of his shoe.<br/>
<br/>
“Guess I’ll have to go outside later. Sorry, I didn’t ask your name.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m Harry. Call me H if you want to.”<br/>
<br/>
“H… I like that”, Louis smiles. What’s wrong with him? Why does he smile so much? <em>Ughhhh</em><br/>
<br/>
It's quite ironic they both dance to this song. He knows Blur is superior when it comes to Britpop. You can dance to it, cry to it, sing to it. It’s diverse!<br/>
<br/>
“See? Blur is definitely superior to Oasis,” Harry shouts.<br/>
<br/>
“No way, absolutely no way Blur is superior. Get over 95’ already!”, he responds, smiling again.<br/>
<br/>
Harry feels some of his curls on his forehead, as he keeps dancing. It’s kind of annoying. Louis reaches for one of his curls and puts it back. Harry swears to god this boy is fucking Pikachu or something. There’s this intense electricity on his touch. He kindly reminds himself to never say that out loud.</p>
<p>“Atomic” from Sleeper starts to play and everyone loses their shit. People have been obsessed enough with Trainspotting since it came out, even more with its soundtrack. Harry prefers the Blondie version, though.<br/>
<br/>
They keep dancing, a little bit closer. There’s that stare again. Harry blushes just to the thought of any possibility of any other physical touch, ever.<br/>
<br/>
“Is that… glitter on your eyes?” Louis gets even closer. Harry’s heart hammering against his chest, and he’s not sure if it’s the vodka or the sensation of being so familiar and so foreign to Louis’ presence. Him being so near to his face is not helping.<br/>
<br/>
“My sister’s work,” Harry responds, bit nervous.<br/>
<br/>
“I’d love to wear that kind of stuff. I’m too clumsy though, probably it’d be all over my face by the end of the night,” Louis smiles again. “Looks good on you.”<br/>
<br/>
“Thank you, but I don’t really wear makeup.”<br/>
<br/>
“You should try, then,” Louis nods.<br/>
<br/>
Harry doesn’t understand, as half of the boys in his school would’ve found it ridiculous. But not Louis. He actually thinks it’s nice.<br/>
<br/>
Louis comes even closer. Too close since he can feel his smell. He smells like clean clothes and something else, like baby powder or something like that. Harry’s sense of smell is not his forte.<br/>
<br/>
Another song comes in and it’s also a good one. “Do the Hucklebuck” by Coast to Coast. They keep dancing and Louis suddenly touches Harry’s hand. He turns him around. A double twist, and it’s a mess. They both laugh hard.<br/>
<br/>
“This is an old one!” Louis tells him, not really letting go of Harry’s left hand.<br/>
<br/>
“Do you happen to live at Fairview?”, Harry asks him completely out of nowhere.<br/>
<br/>
“Yep, just moved in with me mom and me sisters from Donny,” Louis says, noticing Harry doesn’t have a clue about what’s Donny. “Doncaster,” and then he looks at him, smirking. “Hey! You were the weirdo at the elevator!”<br/>
<br/>
Shit. Of course.<br/>
<br/>
“Weirdo sounds… fair.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis smiles and looks at his own shoes, “I mean, Niall had to remind you not to stare.”<br/>
<br/>
“I was high, I’m sorry.”<br/>
<br/>
“High, but you don’t smoke...?”<br/>
<br/>
Molly taps on Harry’s shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
“Here’s your drink! I have to go now, but it was nice talking to you…”<br/>
<br/>
“Harry, my name is Harry.”<br/>
<br/>
“Harry, right! See ya!” she says, as she leaves. Good. He actually kind of forgot about her. She was nice though.</p>
<p>“Wanna go somewhere else?” Louis asks. Harry nods, enthusiastically. Maybe a tad bit too excited.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
They both go upstairs, back to Jane’s room. It’s empty by a miracle, and Louis closes the door.<br/>
<br/>
“I was going deaf down there,” Louis giggles. “Music’s good, though.”<br/>
<br/>
“<em>Jolly</em> good, but you should’ve listened to it at first, ‘twas horrid,” Harry giggles too, making him maybe too self-conscious.<br/>
<br/>
“Horrid?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yup. Yup, yup, yup,” Harry sips from his cup, nodding, spilling a bit.<br/>
<br/>
Louis sits on the bed as he drinks some beer. “Are you drunk already?” he smiles, apparently finding Harry’s state somehow amusing.<br/>
<br/>
“I feel happy.”<br/>
<br/>
“I feel happy too, but I’m not sure we’re talking about the same kind of happiness,” Louis tilts his head and if Harry wasn’t so insecure, he’d think he’s fluttering his eyelashes as if he’s flirting.<br/>
<br/>
There’s something in the way he’s looking at him that makes him feel vulnerable, but never uncomfortable in that transparency. Like he’s reading him or memorizing his features. He can’t tell.<br/>
<br/>
But why would he do that if he has a girlfriend? Exactly. This is probably the way he is with people in general.<br/>
<br/>
“You remind me of someone, but I can’t tell who”, Louis says, as he drinks again. “I can’t believe you actually like vodka.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s a smart drink. Goes with everything,” Harry shrugs. “Was that your girlfriend? Eh…”<br/>
<br/>
“Eleanor? Yeah, she moved in here before I did. She’s going to uni soon. It was a funny coincidence; my mum was transferred to this town like two… three weeks ago. Nice coincidence, I’d say,” he nods.<br/>
<br/>
And Harry feels a bit disappointed.<br/>
<br/>
Awkward silence.<br/>
<br/>
“Do you really like The Stone Roses? Saw you down there singing, well, lip synching,” Louis changes the subject. Thank god.<br/>
<br/>
“I do, I think they were definitely ahead of their time.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s a bummer they split up before I got to like their music,” he looks at his cup, pressing his lips.<br/>
“What’s your favorite band, H? You seem to be into cool music.”<br/>
<br/>
“You don’t want to ask me that question.”<br/>
<br/>
“Why? It’s a proper question to get to know someone, I think.”<br/>
<br/>
“Because you don’t want me here talking endless hours about myself. Maybe ask for a genre,” Harry responds lightly, as he drinks from his cup again. It’s not like he’s feeling the vodka anymore.<br/>
<br/>
“Mmh, ok… do you like pop?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry laughs, sarcastically, “Not in the slightest.”<br/>
<br/>
“What about rock?”<br/>
<br/>
“Too broad, come on. Be specific.”<br/>
<br/>
“You’re impossible,” Louis shakes his head and smiles.<br/>
<br/>
“Go on, ask me anything. Whatever you want.”<br/>
<br/>
Not subtle, not at all.<br/>
<br/>
“When’s your birthday?”<br/>
<br/>
“February 1st, thank you very much.”<br/>
<br/>
“Favorite color?”<br/>
<br/>
“Green.”<br/>
<br/>
“Why?”<br/>
<br/>
“Next question.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis giggles, “fine then, Mr. Impossible. Current favorite song?”<br/>
<br/>
“Probably Landslide, by Fleetwood Mac.”<br/>
<br/>
“Nice choice.”<br/>
<br/>
“Indeed, what’s yours?”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, eh – I don’t really know, to be honest. “Where’s my mind?” by Pixies, I guess.”<br/>
<br/>
“I love that one,” Harry nods.<br/>
<br/>
“Do you have a girlfriend?”<br/>
<br/>
And Harry laughs, maybe too loud. Louis raises an eyebrow.<br/>
<br/>
“No. Never. Never ever,” Harry stumbles a little. Wasted he wanted, wasted he’s getting.<br/>
<br/>
“Never?” Louis looks at him, trying to meet his eyes. Harry shakes his head. “I’m just too boring Lou. I can barely keep a nice conversation with someone.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well… this is nice I’d say, a nice convo. You’re not a chatty one but you sure seem like a nice lad,” he pats him on the back and Harry’s entire body stiffens.<br/>
<br/>
Louis’ hand doesn’t move, instead, he moves his thumb, caressing him slowly. Harry can barely breathe. A nice song comes from downstairs and for the first time, he doesn’t know the name of it.<br/>
And Louis does that thing again. He’s staring.</p>
<p>“I don’t know if people laughing at my jokes makes me a nice lad,” Harry looks at the floor, grimacing. “I don’t really know what to say most of the time, so I stay quiet. It feels… right.”<br/>
<br/>
“But do you actually want to talk to people?”<br/>
<br/>
“I do, sometimes, but my mouth usually betrays me and then there you have me, talking about songs about small dicks.”<br/>
Louis laughs. Harry could hear him laugh all night.<br/>
<br/>
“I wish I wasn’t this awkward, and maybe I could talk about football or tv shows like a normal teenager. Like Niall, he’s really versatile and he knows how to talk to people and make friends way faster than me. I just want to be interesting. Be more casual, you know? I feel fake doing so.”<br/>
<br/>
“Why is that?” Louis looks at him, concerned. Interested. Genuinely interested.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t know how to talk to people without feeling like I’m boring them,” Harry says, almost whispering. “I don’t know how to be honest without being weird about it.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s fine to be weird, I think. I mean – who the fuck is to dictate what’s weird and what isn’t. You’re just… you. I think that’s amazing. People’s faking it all the time. If you bore them, which I don’t really think it could happen since you’re incredibly magnetic, then they’re just not the right people to talk to.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Magnetic?</em><br/>
<br/>
“You think I’m magnetic?” he giggles to the thought of it. No one’s ever told him that before.<br/>
<br/>
“I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t. You’re interesting. Like, I genuinely want to know about you and what makes you laugh, and – sorry. Now I’m being intense.”<br/>
<br/>
“No, no. It’s alright,” Harry grins, blushing to the thought Louis actually wants to know him.<br/>
<br/>
“I do think you’re nice. You’re you. That makes you special.”<br/>
<br/>
He never thought of himself as someone “nice,” “enough” even. And he’s never opened up about it with strangers, less in the middle of a party.<br/>
<br/>
“But we’ve literally talked for like a minute!”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m aware of it,” Louis smiles.<br/>
<br/>
“Then how are you so sure I’m – special?”<br/>
<br/>
He looks away, his smile never leaving his face, “I just trust my gut.”<br/>
<br/>
“And what else does your gut say?”<br/>
<br/>
“That we should get to know each other.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry raises his brows, grinning widely, “oh, it’s that so?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, it does. I promise.”<br/>
<br/>
“Alright, now I want to ask the questions.”<br/>
<br/>
“Go ahead, I’m an open book.”<br/>
<br/>
“What’s your favorite color?”<br/>
<br/>
“Red.”<br/>
<br/>
“Favorite number?”<br/>
<br/>
“28.”<br/>
<br/>
“Why?”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s a long story. Next question.”<br/>
<br/>
“Do you like vegetables?”<br/>
<br/>
Louis frowns, “why would anyone like vegetables? Or like, eat them at will?”<br/>
<br/>
“I do eat them at will.”<br/>
<br/>
“You’re an alien,” Louis tries to stay serious, but he laughs when Harry starts laughing. “See? You’re not bad at small talk. We’ve been talking just fine!”<br/>
<br/>
“But because I want to talk to you.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s the point. You shouldn’t talk to people if you don’t want to. You don’t have to change in order to fit people’s expectations.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry smiles, looking directly into his eyes to look for any flicker of a reason not to trust him. He’s being very honest. He looks back, only music filling up the space between them. Music talking for them. In a normal context, Harry would’ve thought this conversation was just him daydreaming about meeting a beautiful stranger in a party, but Louis happens to be very real.<br/>
<br/>
And obviously not available.<br/>
<br/>
He shouldn’t be fantasizing about kissing him so soon, but he’s doing it. He imagines himself getting closer, being braver, pretending no one else is in the house and no one could walk in any minute now. He’s there. It shouldn’t be weird wanting to kiss a stranger, right?<br/>
<br/>
But he panics, anyway.<br/>
<br/>
“I have to go,” Harry stands up, looking to the floor.<br/>
<br/>
“Where?” Louis frowns, “did I make you uncomfortable? Shit, I’m sorry.”<br/>
<br/>
“No, it’s just… I need to find Niall. I don’t even know what time it is and –“<br/>
<br/>
“Harry?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah?”<br/>
<br/>
He knows that feeling, when he wants to cry. He feels it on his fingertips. On his throat. On his stomach. Is it the drink? Yeah, probably. This nice boy from Doncaster looks too good to be true. Who’s just so ambivalently – there. He barely knows him, but there’s this easy feeling like he has known him before. Even Louis said so.<br/>
<br/>
He looks at him, like, <em>looks</em> at him like no one’s ever had. And that’s the thing, he shouldn’t be fantasizing about kissing:<br/>
<br/>
1. Someone who has a girlfriend and<br/>
2. Whoever gives him the least amount of attention,<br/>
<br/>
Because, honestly, he can’t be that attention-deprived. He just can’t. It’s embarrassing, really.<br/>
<br/>
“Let’s go then,” Louis says and stands up too, a bit concerned.<br/>
<br/>
Harry doesn’t move. Neither does him.<br/>
<br/>
And Harry actually can see him with this light. Louis has a cute small nose, pink thin lips, beautiful eyelashes and a facial bone structure made by God personally. They’re almost the same size, even though Harry is slightly taller. Just a little bit. His sole presence is charming enough.<br/>
<br/>
It shouldn’t be this hard to start walking, but why isn’t he starting either?<br/>
<br/>
He’s just there, standing like 21 centimeters away from his face.<br/>
<br/>
He’s about to say something, judging by the way he opens his mouth and shuts it again. He swallows.<br/>
<br/>
Someone opens the door.<br/>
<br/>
“Louis! El is looking for you like crazy!” Jane says, very loudly as she goes in and grabs him too. Seems like a tradition for her to take people away from Harry.<br/>
<br/>
Louis looks at him for the last time and leaves.<br/>
<br/>
Harry needs another drink. Two. Three.<br/>
<br/>
He walks downstairs only to find more people dancing. Some of them singing, more like screaming, the lyrics to Radio Gaga by Queen. Niall is talking to some people in the backyard and  Jane’s not around.<br/>
<br/>
“Niall, I wanna go home,” Harry talks to him. He knows it will be useless, but he might as well try. He’s too drunk to think rationally and besides he thinks he’s done with his social interaction’s quota.<br/>
<br/>
“Come on, boyo! It’s barely 1:30! Where is your festive spirit, Hazza?” Niall shakes his hair a little. He’s drunk.<br/>
<br/>
Ok then. Jesus.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe he just could go inside and dance with his eyes closed again.<br/>
<br/>
When he goes inside, he takes a quick look at the sofa he was sitting before. Louis is kissing his girlfriend right there.<br/>
<br/>
Harry can’t help but to think about it, about if Louis is a nice kisser. He probably must be. In his head, people with nice taste in music are good kissers. That’s a fact.</p>
<p>Does that mean he’s a good kisser too? Probably, he has kissed two girls in his short life: Hannah when he was 9 playing spin the bottle and Lily, last year. At the park. She even tried to touch him above his pants, but Harry didn’t even flinch with the touch. That’s when he knew he wouldn’t like to kiss girls anymore.<br/>
<br/>
That day was an awful one, but we’ll talk about it later.<br/>
<br/>
Tequila welcomes his system now, as he takes three shots with some guys from school he’s never talked to before. They all pat him a bit hard on his back, as they call him by his last name because – yeah. They probably don’t remember his name.<br/>
<br/>
How do they know his last name, though? Never mind, at least now he learned that a proper way of bonding is through alcohol. It could be worse? Definitely.<br/>
<br/>
Jane puts an 80’s mix on the stereo and people start to dance again. Harry wants to dance, to shake the weird feeling from before.<br/>
<br/>
He runs into someone.</p>
<p>“Hey! Louis told me you were a bit sad and that he was making you company,” Eleanor says, Harry could swear he heard a condescending tone. “Are you ok now?”<br/>
<br/>
“Er – Mmh… Sure?” Harry is too drunk for this conversation. And being drunk isn’t that good of an excuse, he just doesn’t want to talk to her. Is it jealousy? Probably. He’s entitled to feel it? Not really, but he feels it anyway.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s the New Year’s! Come! We should celebrate!”<br/>
<br/>
Harry gets to the conclusion that Eleanor’s just like a “Happy New Year’s!” card but probably just empty inside. Nothing much to offer to the world except for a momentarily cheer up.<br/>
<br/>
Without any sort of warning, she grabs his wrist and takes him to where the people’s dancing.<br/>
<br/>
Fuck.</p>
<p>Madonna’s “Into the Groove” is playing and, well, she’s Harry’s guilty pleasure. Everything pop-ish is his guilty pleasure.<br/>
<br/>
Yes. Pretentious fucker suits him.<br/>
<br/>
The place is kind of full by now. Harry doesn’t know even where he’s standing. He doesn’t care that much. Another girl grabs him and makes him spin. What is wrong with everybody making him spin today? Either way, he enjoys it. He feels less anxious than before. What a roller coaster of feelings.<br/>
<br/>
He sees Niall, as he’s dancing with Jane. If after this she decides to ignore him again, Harry <span class="u">will</span> do something. He doesn’t know what, but definitely something.<br/>
<br/>
Harry sips from his cup, dancing to some random 80’s song as he just lets himself enjoy the moment, dancing alone. No one’s really watching, so he closes his eyes. Everything’s spinning around between the lights and the amount of people near him. It’s liberating for a second.<br/>
<br/>
He opens his eyes and looks up. He can see people dancing like a shadow play, which is kind of hypnotic.<br/>
<br/>
Harry’s wasted. Like, utterly wasted.<br/>
<br/>
At the corner of his sight, he notices Louis is still dancing with Eleanor. He’s been ignoring them since he hates feeling – whatever Louis is making him feel. However, he’s there. He’s not looking away, certainly, so Harry looks back.<br/>
<br/>
And then it’s a staring contest.<br/>
<br/>
No smiles, just staring. Sometimes Louis looks away to give Eleanor a fake smile and sometimes Harry looks down, trying not to stomp on people’s feet.<br/>
<br/>
The music’s not helping.<br/>
<br/>
“Harry!” Niall comes, visibly wasted and his hair completely messy. “I’m staying with Jane tonight, Do you want to stay?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry smiles and shakes his head. He’s not third-wheeling tonight. Also, there will be possibly lots of wasted people on the streets. Not a big deal.<br/>
<br/>
When he turns around again, Louis is gone.<br/>
<br/>
He can’t even comprehend where all this intensity is coming from. But honestly, he kind of enjoys it.<br/>
<br/>
But what if he’s a jerk? Homophobic, even. Nah, he liked his golden glitter. And he asked him questions, like he was actually interested. Harry doesn’t remember the last time he had time to talk about himself, or someone that cared. Niall cares sometimes, but he has learned to don’t ask him that much about the deep stuff, since Harry loves to change the subject.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe it’s a little his fault.<br/>
<br/>
Harry keeps dancing alone, but he’s tired.<br/>
<br/>
Someone taps on his shoulder again and it’s like God listened to him, for a change. He doesn’t know for how long he’s been dancing either.<br/>
<br/>
“So… I’m going home. El left early so there’s no use of me being here. Wanna walk? Since, you know. We’re neighbours. Unless you want to –“<br/>
<br/>
“No, please. Let’s go.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry’s not sure why Louis is insisting so much on having private time with him. He can’t say no, either.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>***<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p><br/>It’s 3:14 am.<br/><br/>He doesn’t even notice when Louis has his arm around him, as they walk back to Fairview. There are more people walking, dancing on the street. Houses in the middle of parties and people walking home, just like them. It’s a nice image though. Harry likes chaos post-festivities.<br/><br/>“Isn’t this amazing, Louisss?”<br/><br/>“It is, indeed.”<br/><br/>“What are your goalsss for this year?” Harry’s giggling, balancing on each step, while Louis smirks and moves his hand. He puts it around his waist.<br/><br/>“I’d love to have genuine fun, perhaps to write some more. Definitely joining the football team. What about you?”<br/><br/>“I don’t want to be a disappointment for my family!” he says out loud. Maybe too loud.<br/><br/>Louis raises a brow, “oh you’re going deep, aren’t you?”<br/><br/>Harry laughs, “no, it’s just – I want to make them proud.”<br/><br/>“You have the rest of your life to make them proud.”<br/><br/>“Why are you so nice to me?” Harry stops walking. He stands there, frowning, looking at Louis. “We just met.”<br/><br/>Louis looks back, “why shouldn’t I?”<br/><br/>“But it’s like you’ve known me for ages.”<br/><br/>“Do I have to know you for ages to be nice to you?” he smirks, taking a step closer to a drunk, unfiltered Harry.<br/><br/>“I’m just not – used to it.”<br/><br/>“I literally can’t see why.”<br/><br/>“You probably will,” Harry scoffs, “and when I start calling you and inviting you over to watch the telly, or maybe when I start telling you about how Niall’s the only person I talk to, you’ll get bored. It can happen,” Harry drunkenly nods. “It’s ok if it happens.”<br/><br/>“Ok,” Louis nods too, smiling. “I personally don’t think it’ll happen but if it does, I’ll let you know.”<br/><br/>“Ok,” Harry keeps nodding. He takes a step near Louis too, so they’re nearer than they were at Jane’s house.<br/><br/>He feels like a magnet to Louis’ entire presence.<br/><br/>“You can get bored of me too.”<br/><br/>“I don’t see why I would do that.” <br/><br/>“Then it’s done,” Louis keeps smiling, never leaving Harry’s eyes. “We’ll just –“<br/><br/>“Bore each other out eventually?”<br/><br/>“Yeah,” Louis starts laughing, like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard.<br/><br/>“Then let’s go,” Harry offers his arm so Louis can hold on into it, “bore me to death on our way home.”<br/><br/>He takes his arm, and they keep walking like it’s a Sunday walk. Harry could do this all night.<br/><br/>Louis’ sole presence feels like listening to a good track from an underrated album.<br/><br/>Shit, where’s his cassette?<br/><br/>He tries to look on his pockets as they stop again. Louis looks at him, raising a brow.<br/><br/>“I think I lost my cassette,” he mindlessly chuckles.<br/><br/>Suddenly, screams can be heard somewhere near them. Someone’s shouting someone to stop in the front street.<br/><br/>A group of people gather where the screams are coming from. Everybody’s looking. Some people just walk past through them.<br/><br/>“Shut up, you fucking fag.”<br/><br/>It sobers him the fuck up.<br/><br/>“Please! Stop! You’re going to kill him!” another man yells, a desperate scream. “Why is everybody staring? We need help!”<br/><br/>Harry’s staring, but the street is kind of dark.<br/><br/>He feels useless.<br/><br/>It's not like he can run there and stop them anyway.<br/><br/>From what it looks like, two men are hitting and kicking the other guy on the ground, while one of them is holding the other one to stop him from stopping them.<br/><br/>“Shut the fuck up! You started this, you fucking sissy.”<br/><br/>Of course it’s not safe to walk about carrying a rainbow flag.<br/>Harry knows that. Everyone knows that. It’s barely allowed on pride parades, as long as they leave before the sky gets dark. But every time someone does it, Harry feels a little bit hopeful for the future.<br/>There are risks, of course. This is one of them.<br/><br/>Which kills any sense of hope or safeness completely.<br/><br/>And it’s not fucking fair.<br/><br/>When Harry realizes he’s overthinking (maybe dissociating a little,) he notices Louis is next to him, staring. Shaking. Not even blinking.<br/><br/>“Lou?” Harry asks in a whisper.<br/><br/>Louis can’t stop looking.<br/><br/>“Louis, come on, let’s go,” he says, as he grabs his arm and starts walking. Louis is as pale as paper.</p>
<p><br/>
They get safely to Fairview in a couple of minutes. Harry’s almost sober. Neither of them can talk and the previous light, fun atmosphere is gone. They take the elevator, walk in and Louis starts breathing again.<br/>
<br/>
“That was awful,” he’s still having trouble breathing, voice trembling, staring into space. Harry nods, not knowing what to say.<br/>
<br/>
So he hugs him, which is the best thing he can do right now.<br/>
<br/>
The elevator starts going up. Harry buries his face on Louis jumper. It’s definitely baby powder and clean clothes, and maybe a scent of vanilla, or coconut. Louis is barely breathing, but he also hugs him back.<br/>
<br/>
It feels as if they’ve hugged a thousand times before.<br/>
<br/>
Harry can feel his heart beating fast against his chest, and suddenly he wants to cry again.<br/>
<br/>
He has all the reasons to do so.<br/>
<br/>
Fuck, it’s like seeing the future for him; like seeing what will happen the moment he feels way too comfortable being himself.<br/>
<br/>
And it’s scary. It’s scary because deep down he knows he can’t be more open, he knows this will chase him his entire life and that he’ll have to hide parts of himself in order to survive. Hell, that could’ve been him. Laying on the ground.<br/>
<br/>
He tightens Louis with his arm. And Louis seems to bury his face on Harry’s neck. His body shivers to the feeling.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m so sorry you had to see that” Harry whispers. “I wish…”<br/>
<br/>
“Me too. I’m sorry, H,” Louis responds, voice cracking a little.<br/>
<br/>
The elevator opens up at Louis floor, which is one floor down Harry’s. Louis breaks the hug as he walks out.<br/>
<br/>
The door is about to close when Louis puts his foot on the door, keeping it from closing.<br/>
<br/>
“Can I see you tomorrow?”, he asks, eyes filled with sadness, drunkenness, and fear. All at once.<br/>
<br/>
“Yes. Please,” Harry says, same gaze as him, as the door closes up.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
What a fucking rollercoaster.<br/>
<br/>
When he gets to bed, the room is still spinning up.<br/>
<br/>
Harry can’t sleep.<br/>
<br/>
It’s an uneasy feeling. He had a good time, an amazing one, but also he might be traumatized for life after such an encounter.<br/>
<br/>
And Louis.<br/>
<br/>
Louis.<br/>
<br/>
Why is his sole existence so… intense? So, intimidating and comforting at the same time? Why is he so nice? What about him makes Harry so impossible to look away?<br/>
<br/>
Must’ve been his blue eyes. And it’s not like he hasn’t seen blue eyes before, but it’s the stare.<br/>
<br/>
That fucking stare.<br/>
<br/>
What about the small touches? Him trying to be alone with Harry? Why does he care?<br/>
<br/>
It’s a lot.<br/>
<br/>
And it’s barely the 1st day of the year.<br/>
<br/>
So he decides to give in and try to sleep, maybe he’ll get answers then.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. "At Seventeen"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>"whispers of 'are you sure?'<i></i></i>
  <br/>
  <i>'never have i ever before'"<i></i></i>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“It was awful, Niall, I’m glad you didn’t come back here with me,” Harry chats by the telephone, playing with its cord as he sits on the sofa. He’s drinking Earl Grey. His head still pounding.<br/><br/>“Did you hear anything 'bout them after? Are those guys ok?”<br/><br/>“Nope, and most certainly people won’t talk about it on the telly. There's no way to know,” he says. He didn’t stay long enough to know, and now he won’t be able to shake the image out of his head. “I wish I would’ve done something.” <br/><br/>“You? Against those guys? I don’t really think so. Besides, you were really wasted so I don’t really see you doing anything else besides – you know, throwing up on them.” <br/><br/>“Anything could’ve been better than nothing.” <br/><br/>“Yeah, I know.” <br/><br/>“How was your night, though? Did you have a good time?”<br/><br/>“Oh, Harry, if you only knew,” Niall giggles. “It was a crazy night.”<br/><br/>Indeed, it was.<br/><br/>“I’m glad she didn’t ignore you this time.” <br/><br/>“We actually talked about it. I won’t go too much into details but she said she actually wants to try. Can you believe it? Me and Jane Bennet. I just hope this time it lasts.” <br/><br/>“Just don’t get your hopes too high, alright? I don’t want to be the one who brings you ice cream to cry and listen to U2 –“ <br/><br/>“That was <span class="u">one</span> time! By the way, I saw you leaving with –“ <br/><br/>“Louis, yeah.” <br/><br/>“He’s really nice.” <br/><br/>“Nice indeed. We talked a lot yesterday. He’s my neighbour.” <br/><br/>“Yeah, I remember he commented something about it.” <br/><br/>“I’m meeting with him later,” he whispers.<br/><br/>“Oh?” <br/><br/>“Yep.”<br/><br/>Niall doesn’t respond.<br/><br/>“Harry…” <br/><br/>He knows, of course he knows.<br/><br/>“I know, he has a girlfriend.” <br/><br/>Harry hates the word girlfriend. If he ever gets to have a thing with someone, he will call them his partner. He loves that. Sounds like partner-in-crime.<em> Lover</em> sounds nice too, but maybe too cheesy for his taste.<br/><br/>“It’s more than that, it’s just – you don’t even know if he’s into guys, you know?”<br/><br/>“I know. And he has a girlfriend.”<br/><br/>“I mean…”<br/><br/>“What?”<br/><br/>“Nothing, it’s just –“ <br/><br/>“What, Niall?” <br/><br/>“Jane told me he’s a friend of one of her friends, that’s why she invited him. He’ll go to school with us.”<br/><br/>And Harry spills his tea.<br/><br/>“HE’S GOING TO SCHOOL WITH US?”<br/><br/>“Shush, Harry!” Gemma comes in, scratching her head. “Some of us have a terrible headache!”<br/><br/>“Niall says hi,” of course, she ignores him.<br/><br/>“Don’t you like him?”<em><br/></em><br/>“I do, I do like him. It’s just… I get all – weird around him. I don’t know if I’ll ever keep a proper convo with Louis without stuttering, I don’t know why.”<br/><br/>“I do know why,” Niall giggles again.<br/><br/>“Oh, shut up.”<br/><br/>“You know he’ll probably hang out with us lots, right?” <br/><br/>“Us?”<br/><br/>“Yeah. Me, Jane, some nice people.” <br/><br/>Harry frowns, “some? What do you mean with ‘some’?”<br/><br/>“Jane told me – she said we could hang out with her on the breaks,” Niall stutters. <br/><br/>“Oh, so I’m not amusing enough for mister Niall Horan anymore, eh?” <br/><br/>“You know that’s not true. It’s just – I don’t know, I talked to them loads yesterday and they seem genuinely fun. You should hang out with us too.” <br/><br/>“I don’t know, Niall. I like us hanging out by ourselves. You know, taking the guitar out, pretending we’re cool musicians out in the sun –“  <br/><br/>Niall doesn’t answer. Apparently, the feeling’s not as mutual as Harry though it was. <br/><br/>“What?” <br/><br/>“Come on, Harry.”<br/><br/>“Alright. Bloody hell. I’ll get bored anyway. If one of them starts talking about shit I don’t care, I won’t pretend I care.” <br/><br/>“Noted,” Niall giggles, “as long as you do if that’s me.” <br/><br/>“Fine, I guess.” <br/><br/>“Don’t fine-I-guess me! Let’s pretend we’re cool people for once!”<br/><br/>“I’m already cool, I don’t need your people’s approval.” <br/><br/>Yes, he does. <br/><br/>“Besides, you’ll get to spend time with Louis! Isn’t that like a win-win situation for everybody?” <br/><br/>“To be fair I don’t really know him yet.”<br/><br/>“Then meet him! And tell me how it goes.” <br/><br/></p>
<p><br/>And so it goes.<br/><br/>Harry’s mom hasn’t got home yet but she called in the morning to check on them.<br/><br/>His hair is a mess. He takes a long warm shower, and he thinks he might need a haircut soon. The longer his hair is, the curlier it gets. He’s going to wear some dark green plaid trousers with a “The Kinks” black shirt. He wants to look casual, not too over the top. <br/><br/>Gemma knocks while he gets ready. <br/><br/>“Are you going out?”<br/><br/>“I’m inviting someone over.”<br/><br/>“Good. Can you go to the shop? I need some things! Also I ordered something that you need to pick up –“ she peeks in. <br/><br/>“Gem, I’m already waiting for someone,” he says. “Plus, it’s the 1st. Shops are probably closed.”<br/><br/>“But Ms. Bailey said she’ll open the shop today. Pretty pleeease? You can buy whatever you want,” she makes a pouty face.<br/><br/>“Alright, but if someone comes over don’t let them come into my room. It’s a mess”<br/><br/>“Who’s coming over?”<br/><br/>“A neighbour. None of your business.”<br/><br/>“It is my business,” she walks in. “Is the girl from downstairs?”<br/><br/><em>She knows?</em><br/><br/>“What girl?”<br/><br/>“Did you even hear mum? A family moved downs-“ <br/><br/>“Yep, I know, I know. What girl, Gemma?” he shakes his head.<br/><br/>“Since apparently you live stuck in your own head, I’ll have to tell you. The Tomlinson’s live downstairs now. It’s the typical family: a mum, a dad, two sisters and a brother. They’re kind of nice, actually. Mum went down to offer them cookies and say hello on Christmas”, she sits in Harry’s bed, while he’s listening and fixing his hair.<br/><br/>“Apparently, they’re from Yorkshire. Mum said the mum talked too fast, but she was lovely,” she giggles. “Her name is… Jay? I don’t remember, but the dad was definitely something else. They were talking by the door and he interrupted them. He was a bit rude. I met one of the Tomlinson sisters last week. Félicité, I think it was her name. She was actually sweet. I figured she could be your type.”<br/><br/>Oh, Gemma, if you only knew.<br/><br/>“I’m not meeting with her. I’m meeting with Louis, her brother,” Harry barely looks at her. Gemma doesn’t know he’s actually into boys. He promised himself he would tell her before the year ends. <br/><br/>“Oh. That’s nice. It’s nice that you make friends from the building. You know, so you can leave your room once in a while.”<br/><br/>“That’s what rooms are made for. To hang out.” <br/><br/>“No, I know, but I can actually disguise your own body shape on this bed. Looks like that episode of The Simpsons where they visit Flanders’ bed. Atrocious.” <br/><br/>“Well, I’d love to read on the sofa but someone can talk <em>really</em> loud on the phone and makes it impossible for me to concentrate.” <br/><br/>“I just hope that Tomlinson guy is nice,” she sighs and starts walking to the door, “he’ll need a lotta patience, me thinks.” <br/><br/>“Who says I’m not the one who needs to be patient?” <br/><br/>“I mean, he’ll hang out with you. He must be bonkers,” she giggles. <br/><br/>“He’s decent,” he says, nodding softly.<br/><br/><br/>° ° °<br/><br/></p>
<p>Harry loves going to Mrs. Bailey's shop. <br/><br/>She runs it personally and it opens 362 days a year. She leaves to herself one day for Christmas, one day for her son’s birthday and one for her birthday, so people won’t forget it. On leap years, she would use that extra day for herself, as a reward. <br/><br/>Harry thinks it’s brilliant. <br/><br/>Also, she has an amazing taste in music; she plays mostly tunes from the 50’s and the 60’s. Sometimes, when she’s not too busy, she lets Harry bring a cassette and play it while he’s shopping.<br/><br/>One of the most interesting things he learned from her is that she used to live pretty much everywhere. Italy, France, the US, you name it. She lived everywhere and she lived through everything. She had an American husband who died in Vietnam and left her pregnant, so she moved to Kent first and now here. <br/><br/>In his eyes, she’s a former hippie with an inexplicable nostalgia for the fifties. In her own words, ‘she cannot stand the seventies and its music, except for the Mamas and the Papas.’ <br/><br/>She slow-danced to “Dream A Little Dream Of Me” at her wedding. That’s why. <br/><br/>When he enters, he immediately recognizes the song. “Come Softly to Me” by The Fleetwoods. It’s an amazing song to greet him on the first day of the year.<br/><br/>“Good evening, love!” Mrs. Bailey is sitting at her desk, wearing a colorful crochet cardigan. It suits her. “Did Gemma send you?” <br/><br/>Harry nods.<br/><br/>“She told me last week she was expecting some magazines, so I saved them for her before they ran out. Also, Happy New Year!” She shakes his hand. Harry loves that too. She’s not a hugger, really, but a formidable hand-shaker.<br/><br/>“Happy New Year for you too! How was last night?” <br/><br/>“Just the usual, actually. Fed the cats, we watched the fireworks together, had just a tiny bit of champagne, called Fred and then I went to sleep early. How’s yours?” <br/><br/>“Pretty sure I drank an entire bottle of vodka but I don’t really remember. Also I saw people hitting the shit out of a gay couple. You know, just the usual.” <br/><br/>“Oh, yes. I heard about that too. It’s awful. I hate it. I would’ve done something, certainly.” <br/><br/>“Do you know if they’re ok?” <br/><br/>“Peter told me the police came but of course no one got arrested, as one would expect. They just took them both to a hospital. That’s all,” she frowns. “It still amazes me how the police have one literal job and they’re not capable of doing it.” <br/><br/>“Oh, they’re pretty capable. They just don’t want to do it.” <br/><br/>“I mean, how hard is it to find a couple skinheads with an ugly face and swollen knuckles? I swear to God –“ <br/><br/>The little bell at the door rings, but Harry doesn’t turn around.<br/><br/>“Alright, I’ll be back Mrs. Bailey, I need to go to the sweets aisle.”<br/><br/>“Of course, darling. You know the way,” she smiles, but she’s still quite affected by the conversation.<br/><br/><br/>Johnny Mathis enlightens the empty aisles, and Harry’s in love with his voice. <br/><br/>It’s classy. It sounds like strong coffee on a winter afternoon with cinnamon biscuits. He reminds himself to check for him next time he goes to buy cassettes and vinyls. Maybe he could lend it from Mrs. Bailey.<br/><br/>She hates CDs just as much as him, since they scratch faster and they get lost easier. Mrs. Bailey might be the only person on the planet that doesn’t make him feel pretentious. Just cautious and careful, and that’s enough for him.<br/><br/>He finds the sweets and decides to buy some Nerds, a couple of strawberry Frosties, a Wham to keep him going, three Taz, Milky Way Crispy Rolls, Poppets and two Lanky Larry. Later, he picks some tea and chocolate milk. He’s definitely in the mood for some ice cream. He knows he has a massive sweet-tooth, so he deserves this "silly little extra shop." Of course, that’s what he always tells himself.<br/><br/>As he turns to the other aisle, he watches a man with another girl. They look alike and they’re talking, she looks clearly annoyed. The girl turns around and sees him, like, she really sees him and acknowledges his existence while the man keeps talking to her, clearly pissed off about something.<br/><br/>He panics, so he leaves to pay for his stuff.<br/><br/>“Are we feeling sweet today?” Mrs. Bailey asks.<br/><br/>“You could say that, yeah,” Harry smiles back. She genuinely makes him smile without feeling too self-conscious.<br/><br/>He hears the man speaking behind him, quite loud.<br/><br/>“But at what time did he come back? I didn’t hear him.”<br/><br/>“I don’t know. I saw him in the morning. I thought El stayed too but no, he was alone,” the girl responds, sort of tired. <br/><br/>“I’m still mad he didn’t have breakfast with us. He has been in bed all day! What’s going on with that kid’s brain?”<br/><br/>“Dad, let him be. You picking up fights with mum makes him uncomfortable.”<br/><br/>“Don’t justify him. It wears us out too. Do we stay in bed? No, of course no. We’re productive. Your brother is a lazy –“<br/><br/>“Harry,” Mrs. Bailey interrupts. “Don’t forget Gemma’s mags!”<br/><br/>Maybe he was being too obvious, standing there, doing nothing and listening to some random people’s conversation because the second she interrupts, they stop talking. He puts everything on paper bags and runs out of the shop. Is it possible that they’re Louis’ family? Probably. Why does the world has to be that small for him to run into his family at the exact time he’s on Mrs. Bailey’s shop? He has no idea, but in case that’s his dad, he already dislikes him.<br/><br/>° ° °<br/><br/>Harry arrives home, with a slight hope Louis is waiting for him.<br/><br/>But no; his mom is home though, with Robin.<br/><br/>They have lunch, and Harry waits. He washed his teeth at least three times. He puts perfume twice, on his wrists and collarbones.<br/><br/><em>“He has been in bed all day!”</em><br/><br/>What if he doesn’t come? What if he’s, in fact, in bed all day? What if he’s too hungover to hang out? What if he forgot their “date”? Maybe he was too drunk. Maybe he didn’t mean it. <br/><br/>Harry puts his George Harrison’s cassette<em>: “All things must pass”</em>. Suits the moment. He lays in bed with his shoes on. <br/><br/>It’s 5 pm. He wants to watch the telly but he’s not sure he’ll pay enough attention. Also, he loves George. He would marry George. He is the greatest Beatle, according to him. Even the Beatles know that. He remembers when he saw his last tv appearance, in 97’. Someone asked him to play a Beatles song, and he said he didn’t know any. George is probably doing other stuff. Harry misses him sometimes.<br/><br/>It’s 6 pm, someone knocks at his door.<br/><br/>It’s Robin.<br/><br/>“Hey, H. We’re leaving for my house. Wanna come? We can play with my PlayStation if you want,” he says. Robin is actually pretty cool.<br/><br/>“Robin, I’m not 14. I can take care of myself,” Harry responds. He likes his stepdad, but right now he’s talking over Lou Reed. Not really the moment to do so.<br/> <br/>“You sure?”<br/><br/>“Yep, I bought some sweets for today. Maybe I’ll hang out with Niall later,” he lies, because of – reasons.<br/><br/>“You’re not coming with us?” Anne peeks out the door.<br/><br/>“Nope, I’m staying.”<br/><br/>Anne sighs, “alright, but if we order pizza and we don’t bring you some it’ll be only your fault!”<br/><br/>“I will survive,” Harry smiles.<br/><br/><br/>Harry suddenly decides Louis won’t come, so he changes clothes to something lighter. <br/><br/>It’s cold, so he wears his favorite blue jumper, the one that has sunflowers on, and some soft pajama bottoms. They head up to the door, his mum kisses him on the cheek. When they open the door, a boy is standing in front of it.<br/><br/>And Harry forgets how to breathe again.<br/><br/>“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t know which door was actually yours,”  Louis says, as he looks at Harry’s family.<br/><br/>“Hello! You’re one of the Tomlinson’s, right?” Anne asks, with a warm smile.<br/><br/>“Yup, that’s me,” Louis nods, pursing his lips.<br/><br/>“I’m Anne, this is Gemma and this is Robin,” she introduces them. Harry’s blushing. He should’ve opened the door first.<br/><br/>They shake hands.<br/><br/>“Are you guys staying?” <br/><br/>“Probably, m’not – sure?” Louis looks at Harry.<br/><br/>“Yep, we’re staying. Too cold outside.”<br/><br/>“Brilliant! We better get going, then! See you later Louis!”<br/><br/>° ° °<br/><br/>Louis is inside. They’re alone. In Harry’s house.<br/><br/>And Harry wants to jump out the window.<br/><br/>“I’m sorry, I wanted to come earlier but I forgot where you live,” he shrugs, kind of shy, and he looks smaller than yesterday. He looks tired. A sweet smile tarnished by noticeable eye bags and hunched shoulders.<br/><br/>“I never told you,” Harry grins back. <br/><br/>“You didn’t?” <br/><br/>Harry shakes his head. His smile never leaving his face, his eyes never leaving Louis’. There’s something in the air he doesn’t quite understand yet, a certain magnetism weighted by the way Louis looks back. He feels transparent.<br/><br/>“Want a cuppa tea?”<br/><br/>“That’d be perfect. Thanks.” <br/><br/>Harry puts some water on the teapot while Louis sits on the kitchen table. Harry doesn’t know what to say. The last time they saw each other they witnessed something awful which made them hide in each other’s necks. What is he supposed to say?<br/><br/>“How’s your head?” Louis says, and before he realizes how awkward it sounded, Louis lets him know with the way he closes his eyes, shakes his head and scoffs. They both laugh hard, breaking the weird silence from just a second ago. He blushes, which just ends up making his cheekbones way more noticeable than they already were.<br/><br/>“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” Harry smirks. He can feel himself blushing too. “Are you feeling better?”<br/><br/>Louis nods. “You could say that, yeah. It has been a weird day.”<br/><br/>“I bought some sweets if you want some. Didn’t know which one you liked so I ended up buying the entire shop,” Harry giggles as he pours hot water on the cups. “How’d you like your tea?”<br/><br/>“Unsweetened, please”, he stands up and leans to the fridge. “I went to Jane’s house, is this your cassette?” he shows him a New Order cover.<br/><br/>“How did – how did you know? Oh, thank you so much. Where was it?”<br/><br/>“I found it in the bathroom actually. Well, Jane did. She’s nice.”<br/><br/>“I don’t know her that much,” he grabs his tea and sits on the sofa. “All I know is that she’s shagging my best friend.”<br/><br/>Louis chuckles. “Niall? Yeah, I saw him when I went there. We chatted a little bit.”<br/><br/>Shit. Harry hopes he didn’t say anything about their chat earlier. <br/><br/>Niall is the kind of person that would tell you if something doesn’t look good on you. That would actually tell someone you fancy: “hey, my friend fancies you.” He’s not subtle at all.<br/><br/>“He told me you didn't have enough sleep, so I showed up later,” he says.<br/><br/>Harry sighs, relieved. “I did, I just couldn’t shake the feeling of – you know?”<br/><br/>“I know, I had a hard time sleeping too,” Louis looks at the floor.<br/><br/>“Do you want to watch something? I have lots of films, and a new VHS in case you feel like using it,” Harry raises his eyebrows. His offer is intended to lighten the mood.<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/>So Harry finds out more things about Louis. <br/><br/>He’s a sucker for old films, not just any film but the ones with a solid dialogue and an interesting plot; he does not sweet his tea, he gets cold easily (hence the big jumpers), he smells like bergamot and vanilla. Louis can’t quite remember the name of the perfume he wears, but he’s worn it since year 9. <br/><br/>His birthday was on Christmas Eve. He loves Cocoa Puffs and Danettes and deeply dislikes avocados. Also, he plays with his fingers when he talks about himself, tap his foot when there’s an uncomfortable silence, and presses his lips when he smiles or Harry gives him a slight compliment. His favorite musical is Grease. He reminds Harry a little bit of Leo Dicaprio.<br/><br/>They decide to watch Beavis and Butthead on MTV instead, since every movie Harry has is either too cheesy, too scary or too intense. It’s fun sometimes, rubbish tv shows. It helps Harry not to think things too much. They sit close, but they don’t touch. Occasionally, they discuss Beavis' opinions on The Clash, and Harry finds out he’s also a big fan of them. Sandinista is Louis’ favorite album.<br/><br/>“Did you know Ian Brown and Pete Garner actually stayed with them in the studio while they were recording Bankrobber? Imagine listening to Topper Headon playing the drums. Bloody legend, he is.” Louis says, enthusiastically, while eating Poppets.<br/><br/>“Wasn’t he kicked out of the band?” Harry asks, tilting his head.<br/><br/>“Yeah. Sadly. They probably would’ve stayed together longer,” he presses his lips. “I heard there might be a reunion soon though.”<br/><br/>They keep watching tv and talking over it, it’s filled with videos from New Year’s and more insignificant stuff. He tells him some funny stories like that time his sister appeared in the local news by accident while she was on a date, or that time he stayed up late so he could watch a movie he missed in the theater two years ago. <br/><br/>This is nice, just hanging out for the sake of it even though Harry noticed like 10 minutes ago, for some reason, Louis moved a little closer to him.<br/><br/>“The weather forecast is about to start, Lou, we should watch it!” he giggles.<br/><br/>“Alright, fair enough.”<br/><br/>He takes the control and switches channels until he finds the right one on time. <br/><br/>“Get comfortable, this is clearly the important part of our day,” he manages to say between laughs, his eyes on the screen.<br/><br/>And just like that, Louis leans his head on Harry’s shoulder.<br/><br/>Harry, logically, forgets how to breathe again.<br/><br/>Michael Fish keeps talking about the weather, but Harry just can’t pay attention. Louis hair smells like coconut and something sweet. It’s enchanting. He closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy the physical contact, the so unconsciously desired closeness that he’s lucky enough to not even ask for, but it's given to him. Just like that. <br/>And he doesn’t even have to feel guilty for it. <br/><br/>“Are you sleeping on my favorite part of the news, H?”<br/><br/>He opens his eyes, as Louis is looking at him, still on his left shoulder. <br/><br/>They giggle, kind of distracted about what’s actually funny. He lifts his head, his cheek quite close to Harry’s face. He can see him from the corner of his eyes. <br/><br/>Harry knows that if he moves he’ll be staring Louis face to face, and he’s not sure if he can survive it. <br/><br/>But Louis doesn’t move either. <br/><br/>It suddenly feels like Michael Fish stops talking, like the world stops, and everything he feels is Louis’ gaze on him.<br/><br/>He feels visible, vulnerable even.  <br/><br/>His hands get sweaty. His pulse raises subtly but enough for it to be noticeable.<br/><br/>Louis is still there, studying his reactions, waiting for him to do something.<br/><br/>Do something.<br/><br/>Harry moves his head slightly to his right. Louis’ face is close, maybe too close. He literally can feel how he inhales through his nose, and then exhales again.<br/><br/>And then Louis smiles.<br/><br/>And Harry chuckles. Barely.<br/><br/>Unconsciously, he licks his lips. <em>Why now, when he’s literally like 10 centimeters far from your face? Why are you so fucking obvious?<br/></em><br/>Louis is staring at his lips. Again.<br/><br/>“Harry,” he whispers. It sounds more like a question. He likes the way he says his name.<br/><br/>“Mhm?” his own voice sounds deeper than it should.<br/><br/>Their eyes meet again, and Harry notices he looks sad. Like a little kid when he asks his mum for sweets and she says no. Frustration above it all.<br/><br/>“Harry,” he whispers. Even quieter.<br/><br/>“Mhm?” he asks again. He decides to do something, the intensity of the closeness is just too much. <br/><br/>He knows they could probably stay like that forever.<br/><br/>So he leans a little bit closer.<br/><br/>And then, a flicker of panic goes through Louis’ eyes.<br/><br/>He backs up and stands from the sofa, softly shaking his head.<br/><br/>“I – have to go to the bathroom.”<br/><br/>Louis can’t even look at him. <br/><br/>He leaves and shuts the door.<br/><br/><br/>The room feels colder, it’s like some ghost scared him off. Harry’s feeling too much to even recognize what’s going on with his body. He’s frozen, sitting there in silence.<br/><br/>And he just can’t help but to remember.<br/><br/>It was a nice summer afternoon, and he finally asked Lily for a date.<br/><br/>Lily was a nice girl from his art class. <br/><br/>She was obviously pretty, had decent taste and dressed well enough. Harry even made a mental list of things he could like about her, like how she wasn’t a big PDA fan and how she knows so much about photography<em>. Maybe I could learn from her</em>, Harry thought at some point. Trying to convince himself she was ok enough for him to try.<br/><br/>Because he was done avoiding the subject, and people started talking. <br/><br/>So they met up by three in the afternoon and walked around the park. They sat in the grass and had a nice picnic. It was her idea, since Harry wanted to visit the museum. She insisted a lot on going to the park.<br/><br/>Grapes, apples and tangerines were the menu for the evening. Harry actually enjoyed that part.<br/>They talked about comics and some foreign bizarre artists, like Marina Abramovic. She recommended him to look for Ways of Seeing, by John Berger, a nice book if he was genuinely interested in photography, she said. <br/><br/>Up until that point things were really nice, like <em>really</em>. She was there as if he’s just talking to a friend. Having just a simple, interesting conversation about things he actually cared about. He thought they were doing good.<br/><br/>Again, convincing himself it was ok. <br/><br/>Somehow with time she got closer to him, and when Harry said a silly joke, she put her hand on his knee. <br/><br/>He knew this part of the date was going to happen eventually, but he never thought it’d be so soon or this publicly, even. <br/><br/>She touched his face and, with no hesitation whatsoever, she kissed him. <br/><br/>He actually liked it a little. <br/><br/>She was soft and gentle, at first. Harry tried to get lost in the thought of her being soft and, somehow, he managed to feel something. <br/><br/>He remembered watching a movie where the guy puts his hand on the girl’s face, so he tried that. He’d seen lots of people kissing before. <br/><br/>A couple that was close to them left, and Lily noticed that. There was no one around them, at least not visibly.<br/><br/>So she moved her hand.<br/><br/>Harry tried to focus on the kiss, to think about all the times he wondered how it feels to kiss someone. A girl. A boy. Whoever.<br/><br/>She started to kiss him harder as she kept moving her hand up his trousers.<br/><br/>And then that’s all he could think about. And he hated it.<br/><br/>She started touching him, and Harry was almost praying she didn’t notice he wasn’t feeling anything at all. Not in the slightest. <br/><br/>He thought about other stuff to distract himself from that moment.<br/><br/>His mind caught up later after he grabbed her hand quite roughly, pulling her away from him. She looked at him, first confused, then a bit angry. She frowned.<br/><br/>“What’s wrong?”<br/><br/>Harry wanted to cry.<br/><br/>He promised himself he would try, especially after those guys from the team called him a sissy for wearing his favorite jumper, the one with the sunflowers. <br/><br/>Especially after his mum asked him when she could expect a girlfriend in the house. <br/><br/>Especially since that day he stole Gemma’s nail polish and tried it on himself. <br/><br/>After he wondered how it would feel to kiss Peter, a guy from maths.<br/><br/>But he failed.<br/><br/>Awfully.<br/><br/><br/>“I… have to go home,” he said in a whisper, releasing her wrist. “I can’t do this.”<br/><br/>“This? Harry, people kiss on dates, that’s what they do.”<br/><br/>“I can’t do it – with you. With anyone. It’s… I’m really really sorry. I just can’t –“<br/><br/>“Are you fucking serious?” she looked at him, her frown even more pronounced.<br/><br/>“I’m so sorry Lily.”<br/><br/>She looks at him. Inquisitive. “You made me come over here for what, then? Do you even fancy me?”<br/><br/>He clearly knows the answer.<br/><br/>“I don’t really think so. I think you’re a nice person, but I can’t like you like… that.”<br/><br/>“You didn’t even try!” <br/><br/>If the rest of England hasn’t heard her by then, Harry would actually be surprised. <br/><br/>“It’s not that I didn’t try. I tried. I just can’t feel that way – with you. Or anyone.” <br/><br/>He regretted the words that came out of his mouth, which is apparently completely disconnected from his brain, as quick as he said them. <br/><br/>“Wait, holy shit,” she opened her eyes widely.  “Are you –“<br/><br/>Fuck.<br/><br/>It's a logical conclusion, though. Harry always admired the talent some people have to tell lies. <br/><br/>He’s blatantly obvious.<br/><br/>“I don’t really know,” he whispered, again.<br/><br/>She started to get her stuff into her bag. “I knew it. I knew you were a faggot. I don’t even know why I bothered to come here,” she shouted. “You’re literally so fucking gross.”<br/><br/>Harry stared. <br/><br/>For ten seconds, he just stared right into her eyes. She was looking at him like she just meant her words and for a moment, he felt them. He felt disgusting. She’s his fears incarnated in a nice-looking girl. It was way beyond Harry’s comprehension. <br/><br/>But it takes a lot of courage to know when to leave. It takes just a minimum of self-worth to know it goes beyond a slur, a disgusted look, a shout. <br/><br/>So he was done.<br/><br/>“I don’t need this.”<br/><br/>He grabbed his stuff and stood up. Maybe physically, maybe just metaphorically, but he was not there to receive more hate than he knew he could face throughout the rest of his life. <br/><br/>Because, after all, he was already sentenced to it. Pretending or not pretending, the truth was there, facing him. <br/><br/>“Don’t be surprised if the entire school finds out about this.” <br/><br/><br/>She left. <br/><br/>And Harry didn’t know what to do.<br/><br/>He barely got home in one piece without exploding. <br/><br/>At the door he looked for his keys but he was shaking so much he just couldn’t open it. Anne heard him, so she opened it for him. <br/><br/>He ran to the bathroom and threw up right away. His body shaking violently. Anne walked in scared, since he didn’t even say hello. Gemma waited at the kitchen, just as confused.<br/><br/>“Harry? What’s wrong?”<br/><br/>He felt how his tears came out, as he started sobbing. Anne sat with him at the bathroom floor while she hugged him, slowly caressing his back. <br/><br/>He couldn’t breathe.<br/><br/>“Look at me. Look at me, Harry. Come on. What happened?” she looked at him. Harry couldn’t speak. All he did was cry, cry, cry. He actually couldn’t breathe. <br/><br/>“Let’s count to ten together, alright? Together?”<br/><br/>Harry couldn’t talk, but he counted on his head. <br/><br/>It didn’t work.<br/><br/>Gemma came in after; she sat next to them and tried to hold Harry’s face.<br/><br/>“Harry,” her voice cracked up. She couldn’t stand watching him like that. “Come on, what happened?” <br/><br/>Harry couldn’t speak. He kept crying.<br/><br/>“Tell me 5 things you see”.<br/><br/>He tried to speak this time, his voice barely audible. “Your shoe, the floor, the sink”, he paused. “Mum’s jeans, my hands.”<br/><br/>“Tell me 4 things you can touch.”<br/><br/>“My knees,”<em> fuck, Lily’s touch.</em> “My ankles, your hand, the floor.”<br/><br/>“Now 3 things you can hear.”<br/><br/>He heard the neighbours upstairs, they were moving furniture. “My voice – upstairs, your voice.” <br/><br/>He started to calm down. <br/><br/>“Good, you’re doing good. Two things you can smell.”<br/><br/>“Your hands, my perfume.”<br/><br/>Harry closed his eyes. He’s still crying, but he could finally breathe again.<br/><br/>“And now something you can taste.”<br/><br/>“I just threw up, Gemma.”<br/><br/>She chuckled, concern still in her eyes. “Let’s get you some water, shall we? Come on, let’s go to your room.”</p>
<p>They both lifted him up and Harry rinsed his mouth with water. That night, his mum made him like half a dozen cups of tea with a special secret ingredient (lavender, whenever he felt sad) and Gemma stayed with him until it was late. They slept together on Anne’s bed and it felt like 1992 when Harry was a kid, just before Christmas.<br/><br/>Of course, he kept crying whenever he remembered Lily’s words and his mum and sister obviously noticed, but they had sort of a mutual agreement in silence that they wouldn’t try to ask him what happened again. He’d tell them eventually. <br/>They’ve never seen him like that, not even when grandpa died, but they wanted to give him space.<br/><br/>(“You will be alright. I promise,” Anne whispered to his ear while stroking his hair, while he’s about to fall asleep. “Maybe not today, not even tomorrow, but I promise, one day, the world will become a nicer place to live and it'll fit your special soul. You’re golden, Harry. Never ever forget that. No matter what people say, or do, alright?”)<br/><br/>That was the day Harry realized he was gay.<br/><br/>Lily didn’t say a thing, naturally. She even put a letter inside his locker, asking him to forgive her. That her reaction was a consequence of growing up within a homophobic family. <br/><br/>Harry didn’t, and still doesn’t, know for how long people will make that shitty excuse.<br/><br/>Months passed and Harry sort of came to terms with it, that probably he will never feel love as a teenager. Boys were boys, and girls were… well, girls. No one made him feel a single thing, not even curiosity. <br/><br/>But Louis is pretty fucking inconvenient.<br/><br/>Because what if Niall’s actually right? Maybe he just definitely likes girls and this whole flirting thing – if you can call it that – was just a part of an idealization and this idea that, for some reason, Louis might actually feel the same way he’s feeling right now. <br/><br/>Because he met him yesterday, but he wants to kiss him already. <br/><br/>But nothing’s really clear based on stares and stipulation. <br/><br/>He takes forever in the bathroom and Harry can’t help but to think he might be hiding or something. He finds it funny though. He’s hiding from him, in his own house.<br/><br/>He has an idea.<br/><br/>“Louis?” he knocks. “Are you still alive?”<br/><br/>He opens the door, his face red as a tomato.<br/><br/>“Yeah, I’m sorry. I needed to drink some water.” <br/><br/>“In the bathroom?” <br/><br/>Louis chuckles, nervously. He’s lying, even he can tell how lame that was.<br/><br/>“Wanna see something cool?” Harry asks and he’s not sure if it’s that cool. Doesn’t matter anyway, it’s enough to bring Louis’ smile back again.<br/><br/>They both go up to the rooftop.<br/><br/>“For fuck’s sake, Harry, it’s freezing out here!” he says as he puts his hands on his pocket, frowning. <br/><br/>Of course it’s freezing. It’s January. <em>Well, stop staring into my eyes and making me nervous to then hide in my bathroom</em>, Harry thinks. Again, he kindly reminds himself to not freeze his dates in the future.<br/><br/>“But look at the view! Isn’t it inspiring? Doesn’t it make you wanna… drop everything and leave for New York?” he says, and his brain immediately reminds him to not be a pretentious fucker.<br/><br/>“Are you a New York kind of person?”<br/><br/>“A California kind of person.”<br/><br/>“Well… not really. I love this place. It’s inspiring,” Louis is still shaking a tad bit. Maybe it is too cold outside. “Greatest music has come from here. Maybe this is not the US, but it’s something.”<br/><br/>“It’s definitely something,” he nods.<br/><br/>“What do you want to do? After school, I mean,” Louis looks at him. Looking all adorable with his hands on his pocket.<br/><br/>“Next question, please. I’m actually enjoying the view.”<br/><br/>“Alright,” and he stops talking. Did he fuck it up? Maybe his response was too straightforward, but he hates talking about <em>that</em> future. He doesn’t really want to talk about it.<br/><br/>“Can we pretend nothing happened? Down there?”<br/><br/><em>Oh.</em> <br/><br/>“What do you mean?”<br/><br/>“You know, the whole staring contest,” he tries to laugh it off. No success.<br/><br/>Harry assents, in silence.<br/><br/>“It’s just… I don’t want things to get weird between us. And yeah, it was probably a bit weird from me looking at you like that. I do think you’re nice and I want to be your friend. Obviously… If you let me.”<br/><br/>If he really thinks about it, he’s actually kind of right. They just met and the whole thing was getting too intense. Harry thinks it happened for a reason, though, the stares and the subtle touches, but Louis has a girlfriend. <br/><br/>A girlfriend. <br/><br/>Harry wishes he could have a girlfriend, that he could get to choose who he likes. How can someone feel so much and be able to connect with mostly no one?  <br/><br/>Louis has been a huge exception, because he feels he can trust him even though they met like a day ago. There’s something soothing about his presence, and Harry prays he’s not wrong about him. <br/><br/>So, he chooses him. As a friend.<br/><br/>“We can do that, sure,” he manages to look at him. Louis looks relieved, a bit disappointed though.<br/><br/>“Alright then.”<br/><br/>And he smiles, a warm smile that makes him feel winter is gone. Harry smiles back.<br/><br/>“So we’re friends.” <br/><br/>“We’re friends, yeah.” <br/><br/>“Even if we’ve been talking for, like, a day?” Harry turns and looks at him, genuinely curious. <br/><br/>“Is there a standard, or a right time or something? Like, we become friends after I tell you my darkest secret or –“ <br/><br/>“I mean – I wouldn’t mind.” <br/><br/>“Tell me a secret and I’ll tell you one.” <br/><br/>Harry smirks, “I don’t have secrets.” <br/><br/>“Oh, you do. You look like the kind of person that does.” <br/><br/>He glances at the building in front of them. He looks at the windows, some with their lights up, some with their curtains closed. Does he really have a secret?<br/><br/>He does. At least, the blatantly obvious one. <br/><br/>He gives himself a second. <br/><br/>“I’m gay.” <br/><br/>Harry doesn’t turn around to look at Louis again, so he doesn’t know his reaction. Instead, he keeps looking at the windows, and the endless black sky above and beyond them. <br/><br/>“That’s fair.” <br/><br/>“It isn’t,” he softly shakes his head. “Your turn.” <br/><br/>Louis gives himself a second too. <br/><br/>“You promise not to tell anyone?” <br/><br/>Harry quirks a brow at him, “oh, you have a dark secret.” <br/><br/>“It’s not dark, it’s – stupid.” <br/><br/>“Go on, then.” <br/><br/>He sighs. <br/><br/>“I tried to,” he makes a gesture around his neck, clicking his tongue, “two years ago.” <br/><br/>At first, Harry doesn’t get it. He’s so cheerful and loud and he doesn’t seem the kind of person that would do it or try it, less to think about it. Then, it’s clear. Those kinds of thoughts can come to anyone, from the loudest and the happiest to the quiet ones. It doesn’t make it ok, but he gets it. <br/><br/>“How? – What happened?” <br/><br/>“Well, you see –“ <br/><br/>“No, no. It’s ok. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” <br/><br/>“Don’t be. It’s alright, you can ask,” Louis smirks, which somehow says a lot and nothing at the same time. “I promise it was stupid. I was frustrated because I had an awful fight with my dad and then I thought ‘fine, I’m done.’ I was really done. That night I picked up my tie, untied it, went to the bathroom and thought ‘this is it. I’m leaving.’ I didn’t even bother to leave a note or whatever because, now that I’m older, I think I always knew I wasn’t going anywhere.” <br/><br/>“And you actually tried it?” Harry still feels concerned. <br/><br/>“Yeah, but the curtain rod gave in before I even tried to do it properly. It was so humiliating,” he chuckles, but Harry’s not sure if he should laugh too. It’s something quite serious. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m fine now.” <br/><br/>“Are you?” <br/><br/>Something crosses Louis’ mind. He can see it in his expression, so tender and resigned, but so wearied.  “I mean, I haven’t tried ever since, but it doesn’t mean my fights with dad ever stopped.” <br/><br/>“He sounds like a jerk,” he responds, then realizes he might be crossing a line. “Sorry, I mean –“ <br/><br/>“No, he is a jerk,” Louis giggles again. “But I promise, I’m feeling better now. I think I tried to do it because I felt really alone.” <br/><br/>“You don’t have to be anymore. I mean – I’m always a floor away.”<br/><br/>Louis smiles, not out of nervousness this time but genuinely smiles, and Harry believes he got the message right and clear. However, he’s still worried. No amount of fights with your parents should lead you to consider taking your own life, but it happened to him. Is there something else going on? Has he ever thought about it again? What changed? <br/><br/>He wants to ask so much more, but he doesn’t want to be invasive. Less too intense, more than it has been the last few hours. <br/><br/>“Ok, so – we both told secrets. Are we officially friends now?” <br/><br/>“Yeah, I think so,” Harry lets out a soft voice, “unless you want to have an official ceremony or something.” <br/><br/>Harry can almost see the way a lightbulb lights up above Louis’ head, “spit in your hand.” <br/><br/>He lets out a loud chuckle. “What?”<br/><br/>“Spit in your hand, let’s have our official ceremony.” <br/><br/>“I’m not going to spit on my hand, Louis.”<br/><br/>“Bummer. I guess we’re not officially friends, then.” <br/><br/>Harry chuckles again, shakes his head and actually spits on his hand. He offers it to Louis. <br/><br/>“Let’s be fucking gross, I guess.”<br/><br/>Louis gives him a firm, quick handshake before he cleans his own hand on his trousers. They laugh, sonically in unison which makes it not actually that awkward. He can’t believe it’s the first day of the year and he has actual spit on his hand just to seal a friendship. <br/><br/>So much exposure for just a few hours. <br/><br/>And for some reason, he’s enjoying it. <br/><br/>He doesn’t know if it’s the lack of meaningful connections in his life or how Louis is just so easygoing, but he enjoys it. <br/><br/>Having a friend, to not complicate too much about it. <br/><br/>Fantasizing about kissing them it’s another thing, though.<br/><br/><br/><br/>They spend the rest of the night rating albums, exposing some other parts of their lives to each other and laughing at each other’s silly stories. This kind of easiness reminds Harry of the kind of friendships he used to have when he was a kid, when asking another kid for them to lend you a toy was enough. <br/><br/>Being neighbours and future classmates qualifies as enough too. <br/><br/>Anne calls to let him know Gemma will be back but she’s staying with Robin tonight.<br/><br/>“Is Gemma bringing pizza? We’re starving over here,” he jokes. They’re both sitting on his bedroom floor, Louis leaning on the wall, crossed-legged.<br/><br/>“Of course she is. Is Louis still there?”<br/><br/>“Yep, he’s leaving in a while.”<br/><br/>“Please, remember to clean up the living room later and wash the –“<em><br/></em><br/>“I know. See ya tomorrow! Have fun!”<br/><br/>“Ok, bye lovey!”<br/><br/><br/>Louis wants to be everything. <br/><br/>When he told him Harry laughed, maybe too loud, but Louis was profoundly serious. <br/>He wants to be a musician, an art critic, a writer, an English teacher, a bus driver, an actor, a masseuse and maybe, just maybe, a football player. He wants to be a dad one day, maybe when he's 30 or older. He wants to have a nice big house in London but also a house in Doncaster, near the beach.<br/>He wants to watch more foreign films and maybe learn some French, even if he sucks at it. He wants to marry near the beach in a blue suit, since it’d look nice with his eyes. He wants to buy new shoes, he wants to be better at math, he wants his mum to leave his dad because they’re unhappy with each other. He wants to go to uni and go to dance clubs so he can dance to his favorite songs. He wants to visit South America. He wants to die old surrounded by his grandkids and loved ones.<br/><br/>Louis wants a lot, and Harry likes that.<br/><br/>Because he doesn’t really know what he wants. He barely knows what he wants for breakfast.<br/><br/>“I think you already know.” <br/><br/>“I don’t, really.” <br/><br/>“I think you have some quite strong opinions, like when you trashed me for liking Oasis,” he chuckles.<br/><br/>“I didn’t! It’s just… I’m not specially attracted to them,” Harry wrinkles his eyes<br/><br/>“Do you like Star Wars?” Louis asks while playing with an incense stick. Harry loves incense sticks, especially the patchouli ones he keeps inside his nightstand. <br/><br/>“I do. In fact, I met Carrie Fisher once,” Harry grins, sounding all proud.<br/><br/>“You did?!”<br/><br/>“I did. We were walking 'round London with mum and Gem and she was there with her daughter. She was lovely.”<br/><br/>“Wow – that’s so cool!”<br/><br/>“Can I tell you a secret?” Louis nods clearly interested. “I didn’t watch the movies by then, so I didn’t know who she was and I thought she was my mum’s friend.”<br/><br/>“Imagine your mum being friends with Carrie Fisher, that’d be sick!” <br/><br/>They both laugh, loud, as they hear someone come into the living room.<br/><br/>“I think I’ll go home, H. I don’t even know what time it is,” he chuckles.<br/><br/>Harry looks at his digital watch on his nightstand. “It’s 11 already.”<br/><br/>Louis’ eyes widens as he stands, “oh, shit, I need to go now.”<br/><br/>“I’ll go with you.”<br/><br/>“You don’t have to.”<br/><br/>“I’m a gentleman, of course I have to,” Harry stands up too. “Do you want me to lend you my Joni Mitchell cassette?”<br/><br/>“Of course!”<br/><br/>He hands him “Blue” – one of his favorite albums.<br/><br/><br/>“You must be Louis!” <br/><br/>“You must be Gemma. Fiz told me about you earlier,” he smiles, flipping his hair a bit, not necessarily to fix it but probably out of nervousness. <br/><br/>Talking to other people after hours of being together feels like coming down from another planet. Harry tries to walk him to the door, subtly. <br/><br/>“Ask her when we are having that tea, will you?”<br/><br/>“Of course!” <br/><br/>They take the elevator and Harry can’t help but to remember last night, when they came back home. He notices how Louis is tapping his foot and playing with his fingers. Is he nervous? Does he remember too? Is that memory something that’ll stay with them for too long?<br/><br/>The door opens and Louis walks out. <br/><br/>“Harry, I can take it from here, thank you.”<br/><br/>“Come on, I don’t even know where you live,” Harry follows him anyway. He’s kind of stubborn, not really seeing what’s the problem of dropping him by his door.<br/><br/>When they arrive, Louis takes a moment to knock. He sighs. He knocks three times and the same man from the store opens up. Harry feels instant shivers down his spine. The man looks at Louis with pure hatred and exhaustion.<br/><br/>“What the fuck, Louis?”<br/><br/>“Please just let me in,” he responds, his voice sounding smaller than it is. Harry feels nervous and he's not the one receiving the death stare.<br/><br/>“You said you’d be here by 10. No more. No less. What’s wrong with your head? You said 10, not me,” Louis’ dad completely ignores Harry’s existence. He should’ve listened to him, in the elevator. <br/><br/>Because this is so fucking awkward.<br/><br/>Louis says bye almost whispering as he walks in, and his dad shuts the door. He definitely should’ve stayed at home.<br/><br/>When he goes back, still anxious, he finds Gemma eating pizza.<br/><br/>“I was waiting for you,” she says with her mouth full. <br/><br/>“You were right, about the dad,” he sits with her at the kitchen table, grabbing a slice of pizza.<br/><br/>“Yeah?” <br/><br/>“I mean, he looks like a grumpy man.” <br/><br/>“He sounds like one. I swear I can hear him from my window sometimes,” she sips her tea, raising a brow at Harry, “Louis looks sweet, though.”<br/><br/>“He is.”<br/><br/><br/>The first day of the year is coming to an end and he’s certain he has never felt so many emotions in 24 hours before. Louis came into his life like an unprecedented earthquake, with no warning whatsoever.<br/><br/>The next day he doesn’t see Louis which makes him feel a bit nervous. They exchanged numbers, but he didn’t call. <br/><br/>Maybe he needs his space, and it’s ok. <br/><br/>Harry watched his freshly new tape of Pulp Fiction with Gemma, though, and he had a nice time. Anything to distract him from the fact that school starts again tomorrow. <br/><br/>He finally decides to spend his Sunday by reading a new book, while listening to Simon &amp; Garfunkel’s Bookends. As he listens to it, he thinks of his conversation with Louis yesterday.<br/><br/>And in fact, Harry knows a lot about himself. <br/><br/>He loves daisies and the color green. If he could live anywhere, he would live in Rome, in a big house with a front yard full of flowers so the bees can visit him. If he could choose a decade to live, he would pick the 70’s. He loves wearing black because it combines with everything, pearl necklaces, and socks with funny drawings. <br/><br/>He likes watching VH1 since it has so many interesting documentaries. He loves curly fries. He wants to be a florist or a baker someday, if the music industry goes wrong. He wants Robin to move in with them, so mum can stay longer at home. He wants to talk with his dad again. He wants to learn French and Italian.<br/><br/>He wants to visit Japan. And California, so he can drive down the beach listening to Scott McKenzie or The Beach Boys. He wants to learn to cook properly so he can listen to ABBA while doing it.<br/><br/>He wants to get married one day, with someone so handsome he can write poems and songs about his beauty, about his eyes, about how life is better and lovelier with him. He wants to have a little girl so he can pick her dresses, so he can brush her hair. He wants to go to a Pride parade one day, and dance with a rainbow flag on his back.<br/><br/>He mentally pats himself in the back. This is progress. <br/><br/><em>“I’m not pretentious,” </em>he thinks, <em>“I’m just me.”</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. "You Can Have It All"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>"school bell rings, walk me home,</i>
  <br/>
  <i>sidewalk chalk covered in snow,</i>
  <br/>
  <i>lost my gloves, you give me one,</i>
  <br/>
  <i>'wanna hang out?' yeah, sounds like fun</i>
  <br/>
  <i>video games, you pass me a note,</i>
  <br/>
  <i>sleeping in tents,</i>
  <br/>
  <i>it's nice to have a friend"</i>
</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Friendly reminder that dates, places and names were adjusted to match the history, not all of this is a 100% accurate. If you're reading this, thank you so much! Kudos and comments mean the world to me! &lt;3</p><p>This chapter was going to be longer but I wanted the next one to be mainly about what's coming next, so I can go full into details. It'll be up tomorrow or Monday!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sun’s about to come out. Harry is sleepy.<br/>
<br/>
It’s 6:50 am. Harry decided last night he wanted his first day back at school to be a good one, so he prepared everything for that. He has notebooks already on his backpack, some fruits for breakfast, his clothes ironed, and a mix tape especially made for him to ride his bike to school. A mix of Diana Ross, Chaka Khan, Cheryl Lynn, Grace Jones, Gloria Gaynor and Donna Summer to keep him up.<br/>
He takes a quick shower and decides to wear jeans, a black shirt and a green jumper with some lovely groovy pattern, to keep it simple.<br/>
Gemma and Anne are having breakfast at their kitchen table. They don’t have a dining table since they’re a small family. They have pancakes, sandwiches and tea. Harry wants to stay but he wants to arrive early, since the bike spots are taken quickly.<br/>
Riding to school and back is one of his favorite parts of the day, especially listening to some good tunes. They only have one car and usually his mum uses it, besides, the bike keeps him in shape. When he’s at it, he feels like in a commercial, he can’t decide if it is a Coca-Cola or hair product commercial, but it works either way. His curls moving with the wind, feeling warm on a cold morning.<br/>
Nothing can ruin his day.<br/>
<br/>
When he sees Niall, he’s leaning on his locker playing with his Game Boy.<br/>
<br/>
“How was your holiday? I haven’t seen you in a while, Nialler”, Harry scratches his head with his knuckles.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s been, like, forever dude”, he responds imitating an American accent.<br/>
<br/>
For Harry’s surprise, Jane actually has been texting and calling Niall since the party.<br/>
“I’m totally buzzin’. I really want things to work out. She’s smart and funny and makes the best cookies in the world!”<br/>
<br/>
When it came to love, Harry always has envy Niall on that matter. Not because he was better with ladies, and not because Harry wanted ladies, but because he was so simple when it came to pick his partners. As long as they laughed as his jokes, managed to talk about things he liked (of course he’d make the effort of learning stuff about them to talk about too.) and liked to eat a lot, he was ok. That was it.<br/>
Harry was the complete opposite. Not that he has ever been head over heels for somebody, but every single time he found someone nice, if he heard them saying something dumb or boring, he’d lose interest so quickly.<br/>
He likes people that make him think, that inspires him.<br/>
Nonetheless, Harry knows Niall not only makes that effort with girls, but with people he loves as well. He knows Harry can be quite extravagant and different, but he adapts to that. He literally has searched for every record Harry has mentioned, he has read a couple of books he recommended him, they’ve been to concerts together, even if Niall is not a huge fan of the band, and vice versa. Harry loves him because he gives a shit. Because he cares.<br/>
<br/>
They start walking and now Harry is confused, since people are greeting him on the hallways, calling him by his name. Even Molly, who gave him her number on a piece of paper. Definitely he should drink more tequila.<br/>
<br/>
He has English as his first class. They discuss what they did on their holidays and he can’t help but to think of Louis. On what he might be doing right now, since he’s now a student at this school. Harry wants to see him, but at the same time, he just knows how that will go.<br/>
<br/>
His class goes by amazingly fast, so he goes to his locker to grab something to eat when it finishes. He finds a cassette with a sticky white note on top when he opens his locker.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<strong><em>“Joni Mitchell’s voice is something I didn’t know I needed til now.<br/>
Now I get your obsession.<br/>
I enjoyed this so much yesterday, mum did too.<br/>
My favorite song was Little Green.<br/>
<br/>
Thank you<br/>
L x”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</em></strong></p><p>His heart stops a little. <em>How did he know this was my locker?</em><br/>
<br/>
“A cassette? That was what he wanted to give you?”, Niall is standing next to him.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s mine, actually. He was just giving it back”, he says, trying to play it cool. “Did you see him?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yep, we were together in maths, he sucks at it”<br/>
<br/>
Harry chuckles. “He does?”<br/>
<br/>
“He’s terrible” he laughs back. “What’s your next class?”<br/>
<br/>
“History, I think. I don’t know, my head is still in m’bed”<br/>
<br/>
“I think I’ll have lunch with Jane later. Care to join us?”<br/>
<br/>
“You’re inviting me to be your third wheel? I’m dead excited!”<br/>
<br/>
Afterwards, Harry finds himself walking to Niall, with some proper food on his tray.<br/>
Jane is with him.<br/>
And Louis is sitting with them.<br/>
<br/>
He looks at him and it’s like Louis felt him getting close, since he looked back and gave him a huge smile. That cute smile he has when he crinkles his eyes.<br/>
“Oi! We were waiting for you. Come on, make room for the boy”, Niall says, his arm around Jane.<br/>
Of course there are more people. A guy with brown hair and a friendly face, a girl who barely looked at him and another guy playing with Niall’s Game Boy.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey, lad. What’s your name?”, the guy with brown hair asks.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m Harry. Styles.”<br/>
<br/>
“You were the boy with the tequilas?”<br/>
<br/>
Shit.<br/>
“Probably”<br/>
<br/>
“Shut up, that’s so cool!”, Harry can’t remember for the life of him what did he do with the bloody tequilas. “I’m Liam. Liam Payne”<br/>
<br/>
Liam looks like a puppy. Not in a bad way, just that he’s naturally charming. He has an accent which Harry can’t put his finger on, while he asks himself why he hasn’t seen him before.<br/>
The other girl, who’s sitting next to Louis, seems completely uninterested on the conversation. Louis, on the other hand, is the protagonist. He’s loud and makes jokes, very differently as how he was when they were together in Harry’s room. He was sweet and low profile, but chatty either way.<br/>
He looked at him, occasionally, especially when someone said something that made him laugh. He played with his fingers every single time he had to talk about himself. It was funny, though. A couple times he told the group something that Harry already knew, so he nodded and smiled. He liked that feeling, knowing something not many people now yet. Like when Niall shared stories of them going out, and Harry always nodded. It made him feel important.</p><p>As they were about to stand up, a jock visits their table.<br/>
<br/>
“Jane”, he said, his voice deep and tough. “May I have a word with you?”<br/>
<br/>
“Not now Chris, I’m really <em>really</em> busy right now”, Jane looked at him, Niall’s arm still around her.<br/>
<br/>
Said Chris looked like he was about to cry. He physically looked like Marky Mark, so it was hard for Harry to feel empathy. It reminded him a little of Niall, though, especially when she ignored him on the hallways.<br/>
<br/>
Wait a minute.<br/>
<br/>
Niall doesn’t seem to understand the situation, as he looks relaxed and unbothered. When Harry looks at Louis, he’s looking at him too with an eyebrow raised.<br/>
Because the guy is still standing next to them.<br/>
<br/>
“Jane, please, this is not fair. You cannot just ignore me.”<br/>
<br/>
And Niall finally adds two plus two. He pulls down his arm and asks Jane for answers only with his confused stare.<br/>
<br/>
“Can we please go?” she asks them. Not looking at Niall. They all start to walk with muddled eyes, in silence. The jock still doesn’t move.</p><p>“Why are you all so intense?”, Louis laughs as he walks next to Harry.<br/>
 <br/>
“We’re not. Jocks can be sometimes. And the theater kids, of course. It’s a whole show. You don’t want to see them during the season”, he chuckles.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, I talked to the coach earlier. I think I might start playing with them this season”<br/>
<br/>
Harry stops walking. “You are? Louis… That’s brilliant!”<br/>
<br/>
“I know! I’m happy too”, he nods. “Did you get the…”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, thank you for giving it back”<br/>
<br/>
He knows when he’s about to say something stupid. He just knows, he can feel it on his throat, and even though he fights, and hard, against that there’s no way his brain wants to help him at all.<br/>
<br/>
“When can I see you again?”<br/>
Louis laughs, that melodic laugh from the party, and looks at him while he presses his lips.<br/>
“I’ll call you, Harry”<br/>
<br/>
He leaves. Of course. And Harry doesn’t pay attention to physics, since there’s no space for other thoughts besides Louis eyes. He’s literally the embodiment of the word “pretty”. Pretty. The word suits him.<br/>
He closes his eyes and remembers his smile, since daydreaming with his smile is a hundred percent more attractive than physics. Well, everything is more attractive than physics.<br/>
<br/>
And so their week goes. Harry wakes up early, dresses nice to anybody but himself, bikes to school, attend classes, laughs at Niall’s dumb jokes and unconsciously flirts with Louis at lunch.<br/>
<br/>
On Mondays, Eleanor comes to pick Louis after school. Harry remembers her posh voice, and it annoys him. He doesn’t know if it annoys him because of that or because she’s annoying. Or because she’s her girlfriend. Even so, Louis doesn’t look as happy as when they’re hanging out on his room.<br/>
It’s routine by now. Every Tuesday and Thursday Louis goes to his house ‘til 8, sometimes 9 if they’re watching a movie and it’s too long. They talk about family, holidays, childhood memories, past friends, religion, food, celebrity crushes, dreams, their favorite stuff and, obviously, music. And culture. And politics if they felt it right. Mostly they kept away from the deep shit, since Harry noticed how Louis looked so tired after school sometimes, and he wants him to have a proper good time. Keeping up with his student life, his football team, his girlfriend and his family was a hard thing to do. They never talked about his girlfriend though. For… reasons. Though sometimes it felt like Louis completely forgot about her existence when they hang out. Again, reasons.<br/>
Harry likes to be Louis friend. He’s warm, like sunrise. Whenever he laughs it feels like all the flowers in the world blossom at instant.<br/>
<em>Cheesy.</em><br/>
<br/>
One day Harry came to a dumb conclusion.<br/>
He wrote it on a corner of his notebook, on English class. And when they got home, Louis was playing with his backpack when he found it.<br/>
<br/>
“The earth laughs through flowers?”<br/>
Harry feels himself blush like never before. Louis smirking, as he knows Harry’s probable reaction. He sways to reach his notebook and Louis puts it behind his back.<br/>
<br/>
“Louis. That’s not yours”<br/>
<br/>
“I know, I know”<br/>
<br/>
“Can you give it back?”<br/>
<br/>
“But Harry, I’m a massive fan of poetry!”<br/>
Louis is teasing him. It’s not like he hasn’t done it before, but it was always a comment or something fun. This is pure teasing.<br/>
“I’m not known for being patient so please give me my notebook”<br/>
<br/>
“Is that a threat, <em>Mr. Poet</em>?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry lunges at him and both fall to the floor, wrestling to take the notebook from each other’s hands. It’s fun, but somehow, Louis manages to end up laying on the floor with Harry sitting above him, legs on each side of his body.<br/>
The notebook on Harry’s hands.<br/>
They are laughing until they notice the inconvenient position.<br/>
And Harry sees it again, that gaze from the first time he came to his house. That sad, frustrated stare, hiding behind a soft smile. He looks down at Louis chest, going up and down as he breathes fast from the wrestle. He doesn’t calm down, though. Harry feels tingles on the pit of his stomach, desire burning like paper on his chest. Both of their smirks vanishing. Harry doesn’t remember feeling this feeling before, and it’s the complete opposite of what he felt with Lily.<br/>
<br/>
Harry wants to kiss him.<br/>
Because he’s used to having him close, but not enough. Like when he hugs him before going back to his flat, for example. Or when he surprises him with a hug from behind at recess. This is another kind of physical interaction. Harry remembers clearly what happened last time he decided to do something about it, so he waits. Now he studies his reaction.<br/>
So Louis breaks the stare. He closes his eyes. He leans his head on the floor. He sighs.<br/>
And with his messy hair, his eyes closed, his lips slightly separated, his chest and stomach going up and down, and Harry feeling him under, he can’t help but to imagine things. Lots of things.<br/>
<br/>
So he lifts up fast, as fast as he can, because he’s having a fucking erection.<br/>
<br/>
Fucking hell.<br/>
<br/>
Louis opens his eyes and his smile is back again, completely ignoring what just happened. He leans on his elbows, still on the floor.<br/>
“So, Mr. poet, are you going to explain yourself, eh?”</p><p>Thank god, he doesn’t notice as Harry puts a pillow on himself. He’s blushed, but it looks like he doesn’t care either. His trousers feel tight.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s something dumb I thought about in class. Like, nature has many ways to explain herself and-“<br/>
<br/>
“Herself?”<br/>
<br/>
“As in mother nature?” This talk definitely helps to distract him.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, fair enough. Keep going.”<br/>
<br/>
“So, I thought, maybe… the way she has to laugh is through flowers?”, he tilts his head as he hears himself and how stupid that sounds.<br/>
<br/>
“I think it does make sense in a way.” He looks into space and Harry knows he’s full of shit. “Like, smiles are so beautiful, and flowers have so many colors.” He widens his eyes. “Wait, so according to your logic people take mother earth’s teeth all the time?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry giggles. “No Louis, it was just a dumb thought”<br/>
<br/>
He stands up and sits next to him. His erection is gone by now but his blushing is still there.<br/>
<br/>
“Ok but seriously, do you write, like… poetry, or songs?”<br/>
<br/>
“I do, sometimes. Mostly songs, when I feel inspired enough”<br/>
<br/>
“What inspires you?” <em>Fuck.<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Depends on the day, actually. Sometimes I’m home and a sudden… wave of inspiration hits me, and I stay up until 3, writing and writing and writing.  But some days are just a blur, and I struggle. If something important happens, I’ll probably write about it. My life is not especially dramatic though, so there are times when I get inspired from other people’s stories and I use that.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’d love to read, or hear something from you”, he fonds. When he looks at him like that, Harry feels like a doll on display.<br/>
<br/>
“Maybe. One day, perhaps”, he smirks.<br/>
<br/>
“Come on! Don’t be such a sprog.” <em>What the fuck is a sprog.<br/>
</em>Of course, he didn’t show him anything. Not since everything he writes now, besides that silly quote/reminder, is about Louis. Or what Louis does. Or how Louis makes him feel. Or what he wants to do with Louis. His name became this word on a loop on his brain.<br/>
<br/>
And Harry started to feel exhausted, but he liked it.<br/>
<em><br/>
</em><br/>
Since that day, the day Louis decided to look like a Greek god laying on his floor with him on top, Harry just can’t stop thinking about it. About him.<br/>
On a Saturday Louis had his first match with the football team, and of course they were all invited. Harry doesn’t even understand football that much, he knows it’s a game, but he finds it a bit boring to chase a ball through a field for 90 minutes. He can watch other men do it, though. It’s not like he’s going to say no to such an invitation.<br/>
Louis makes it even more attractive.<br/>
Liam, the tall blonde guy from the party and the jock from the first day played with him too –Harry liked to call him a jock mostly since he looks a bit Scottish—, which made it more fun to watch. Sometimes he could catch Chris looking at Niall with Jane, throwing knives with his stare. Liam was exorbitantly happy to be there, like, all the time. Louis and the tall guy usually didn’t look at the stands, but sometimes Louis looked at him. Like looking at him would give him comfort. Funny enough, he didn’t look at his girlfriend enough, and she was sitting right beside him.<br/>
<br/>
When the match ended —they won 3 to 1—, Niall grabbed Harry’s hand and literally dragged him to the boy’s lockers. When they got in, they were all changing clothes and, luckily for him, Louis was nowhere in sight.<br/>
<br/>
“Oi, let’s grab some lunch!”<br/>
<br/>
“If you let me change clothes first, I’m in. I’m not going like this.” Liam’s hair was messy, he looked sweaty and tired, nonetheless, he managed to look good.<br/>
<br/>
They start talking about the match and Harry doesn’t get a thing. He’s trying to avoid looking at the boys changing in front of him. They don’t care. Harry usually doesn’t care either, but given the last time he was on that locker room – he wanted to talk to the PE teacher who happened to be the coach, and the boys bullied him to death for his jumper—he wants to avoid any unnecessary interaction.<br/>
And it’s like heaven hears his thoughts, since Louis comes out shirtless and freshly showered.<br/>
Only wearing a fucking towel.<br/>
<br/>
Shit. Shit. Shit.<br/>
<br/>
“I’ll just wait outside, ok?”<br/>
<br/>
He doesn’t even hear Niall’s answer and runs outside where the girls are. Jane’s talking to Eleanor and the other girl that barely talks but still hangs out with them, and all Harry can do right now is stand in the middle of the field, cursing the shit out of his existence.<br/>
So he decides to play by himself. Well, to kick the ball into the aim.<br/>
<br/>
“I didn’t know you played.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis is wearing a big blue jumper and some jeans, his hair still wet. A teasing smile decorating his face.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t, I’m just killing time.” Harry kicks the ball so hard he misses. Badly. Louis laughs at him.<br/>
<br/>
“And most certainly you just killed that poor ball”, he giggles.<br/>
<br/>
“No one can say I didn’t try.”<br/>
<br/>
He likes Louis’ hair. It looks messy.<br/>
They walk where the girls are and El instantly hugs and kisses him. Harry has been working hard on putting a straight plain face every time she does that, but sometimes he can’t. The other girl’s eyes are looking at him carefully, and he can’t help but to wonder if she has something to do with El.<br/>
<br/>
° ° °<br/>
<br/>
Another routine week goes by, but this time, Friday feels different.<br/>
Tomorrow is Harry’s 18<sup>th</sup> birthday.<br/>
<br/>
Louis told him yesterday he wanted to pick him up for school and drive with him, since he wanted to give his present earlier. Harry is brushing his teeth when someone knocks at the door, and before he can open, Gemma walks there first.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey, Harry’s mate”<br/>
<br/>
“Louis, Gemma. For like the fifth time”, he smiles back.<br/>
<br/>
“Come in, Lewis. Birthday boy is waiting!”<br/>
<br/>
Harry rolls his eyes. “It’s tomorrow, actually.” He says as they walk to his room. “You better have my present ready!” shouts as he closes the door.<br/>
<br/>
Louis has a small blue box on his hands, with a silver lace on top and a small note.<br/>
<br/>
“I’d recommend you read the note after 12”, he sits on his bed.<br/>
<br/>
“How so?”<br/>
<br/>
“Just do it, ok? Now, open it. I can’t wait to see your face”<br/>
<br/>
Harry shakes the box a little and it’s heavy, he sits before opening it up.<br/>
It’s a green-colored Polaroid 600<br/>
He had to blink twice.<br/>
He takes it out of the box with care, it’s almost brand new. A little box with films is next to it.<br/>
<br/>
“You can’t be serious”<br/>
<br/>
“Coincidentally I had that one at me house and no one was actually using it properly. Also it’s green! You love green”<br/>
<br/>
Harry still can’t believe it.<br/>
<br/>
“Louis…”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t you like it?”<br/>
<br/>
“I love it. I love it so much”, he nods. “Oh my god, Louis. You didn’t have to”<br/>
<br/>
“Now you can take proper pictures of me, no worries, I’m just hiring a personal photographer”<br/>
Harry leaves the camera back in the box and, without giving it a second thought, puts his arms around Louis and hugs him with enough force to make him lay back on the bed. He laughs, it feels like birds are singing. It sounds like Harry’s favorite song.<br/>
With his lips against his jumper, he whispers like fifty “thank you” and Louis puts his arms around his waist.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s what you deserve, love”<br/>
<br/>
Love. Harry loves it when he calls him love. He knows he doesn’t mean it like that but the sound of it sounds great enough.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not going to tell you “Happy Birthday” since it’s not your birthday yet and it’s bad luck to say it upfront”<br/>
<br/>
They don’t move, they just stay like that for a little while. He feels Louis fingers touching one of his curls, caressing him slowly on the back of his head, while he has his face hiding on his neck, feeling his smell, which now is a bit more vanilla-ish. He feels literally in heaven.<br/>
<br/>
“Alright, I’m falling asleep here, we better go”, Louis says, as he carefully releases from Harry’s arms. That and the camera probably were the best presents he has ever had.<br/>
<br/>
“But what about the gift of life, Harry?”, Louis says, as he drives through the city’s streets.<br/>
<br/>
“Not even close. I’ve always wanted a Polaroid”<br/>
<br/>
“You’re so spoiled. I should’ve given you something else.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s already mine”, he giggles. He’s liking this, being spoiled by Louis. Everything that Louis does, to be fair.<br/>
<br/>
They park and walk together; the girl, who’s name Harry finally learned to be Ella, talks to some people at the door as she looks at them. She gets close.<br/>
<br/>
“Lou, El said she wants you to call her later, she needs to talk to you.”<br/>
<br/>
He looks confused.<br/>
“Alright, thank you Ella”<br/>
<br/>
Harry doesn’t even react.<br/>
<br/>
° ° °<br/>
<br/>
“Hi Harry!”<br/>
<br/>
He’s picking up his books when Jane taps his shoulder at recess. She’s wearing a bandana and a white crop top.<br/>
“Niall told me tomorrow’s your birthday, right?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yep, it is”, he smiles, friendly. They actually never talk alone, which for Harry was totally ok.<br/>
<br/>
“Cool. I was thinking, as a gift, we could do something at my place with, some friends, and then we could go to the club”<br/>
<br/>
“Can we? But…”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t worry, my mom’s friends with the guard and he doesn’t care. It’ll be nice! You can invite whoever you want, we can play your music, we’ll play games.” She gets a little closer, puts her hand on her cheek, like telling him a secret.  “I talked to Louis and he’s bringing some good pot. And drinks on me!”<br/>
<br/>
If you really think about it, it doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Not at all. He can have some fun today.<br/>
<br/>
“Alright”<br/>
<br/>
“Brilliant! I’ll tell everyone. My house. 10 pm.” Jane starts to walk out. “Be on time!”<br/>
<br/>
° ° °<br/>
<br/>
Before the whole party invitation, Harry had some plans. He’s meeting some people to finally conform his band, something he’s been planning since last year. They had auditions –some of them were awful— but he worked it out with Niall and they’re finally doing it.<br/>
<br/>
When he arrives to the auditorium, where they were planning to meet, Niall is playing the guitar in the middle of the scenario. “April Come She Will”, by Simon and Garfunkel.<br/>
He’s a great tenor, his voice literally sounds like hot chocolate. <em>I need to stop comparing voices to drinks. </em><br/>
<br/>
“So?”<br/>
<br/>
He keeps playing. “Sarah’s coming later.”<br/>
<br/>
“The drummer?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, I really want her to be in the band. Have you heard her?”<br/>
<br/>
Sarah moved from London like 2 years ago, and she’s been studying music since she learned to take her first steps, basically. When she went to the audition, Harry and Niall were shocked and practically begged her to be in the band. She’s literally a female Roger Taylor.<br/>
Her boyfriend, Mitch, is a kick-ass guitar player. He doesn’t talk too much, which really works for Harry. He agreed to try it out too, only if they let him compose his own solos.<br/>
<br/>
When they came, they discussed some technical stuff like rehearsals and songs they wanted to try first before start composing. Niall and Harry already have some songs under their sleeve, but they’re more than willing to hear what they offer. When they finished, Niall invited them to Jane’s. They didn’t look that interested but gave their numbers to Niall in case they wanted to drop by.<br/>
<br/>
“We’re going to Berlin afterwards.”<br/>
<br/>
And Sarah turns around dramatically.<br/>
<br/>
“To Berlin? Oh, alright. We’ll go.”<br/>
<br/>
° ° °<br/>
<br/>
<em>“I’m so sorry, but I have to pick Eleanor before going to Jane’s.”<br/>
<br/>
</em>And Harry suddenly remembers Ella, telling him El needed to talk to him.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s ok. But I’ll see you there, right?”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Don’t even doubt it. I’ll see you there. Don’t forget the note!”<br/>
<br/>
</em>He hangs, and Harry is still not ready for tonight.<br/>
He picks his white shirt with a huge <strong>FRANKIE SAYS RELAX </strong>on it. Gemma’s gift. Some black trousers and shiny leather black boots, a purple jumper and his denim jacket. Tonight he really wants to look good. Maybe even make out with someone, even though he knows it’s actually impossible. He knocks and asks Gemma for some green eyeshadow. He’s trying it on again.<br/>
<br/>
She helps him to put some on his eyelids.<br/>
<br/>
“You look amazing, this color looks better in you actually”<br/>
He smiles, <em>why is she so ok with this?<br/>
</em><br/>
“Can I ask you something?”<br/>
<br/>
“Sure.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’ve been wanting to ask you this, like, forever. And I know it’s not fair of me asking on your birthday. I know. But I really need to take this out of my chest.”<br/>
<br/>
Shit. Here it goes. Sooner that Harry expected but it had to happen eventually.<br/>
<br/>
“I know what you’re gonna ask”</p><p>“I know you know”, she smirks. “Are you?”<br/>
<br/>
He feels a lump in his throat. Gemma, his sister, the only person that has seen him cry the most, the only person he could ever talk about everything, everything but something so irrelevant as his sexuality. Something that shouldn’t be a big deal, but it is. It’s time to be honest, because that’s what she deserves.<br/>
But he can’t look at her eyes. He’s scared. Last time he told someone about it he had a panic attack, but she was there. She calmed him down.<br/>
<br/>
“Can you… not tell mum yet?”<br/>
<br/>
She sighs and hugs him. Harry doesn’t want to cry; his makeup looks fairly good to mess it up.<br/>
“You know I love you, right? You’re still my baby brother, this doesn’t change anything. You’re so brave and you don’t even know that!”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m so scared Gemma”<br/>
<br/>
“I know you are. It’d scare the shit out of me if I were you. But you’re you, and I know no one better to handle this than you. You’re the coolest kid I know, and you don’t even have to try at all! Jesus, I wish I had your taste when I was 18. And I promise not to tell mum, but only if you let me teach you how to do your own makeup.” <br/>
<br/>
They both smile to each other, even though they don’t talk that much about the deep stuff, it feels so good that someone’s actually proud of him. For being himself.<br/>
They hug one last time as they laugh, mum and Robin go into the room.<br/>
<br/>
“We’re having family gatherings in this house and we’re not invited? That’s not fair!”  <br/>
<br/>
They have dinner and sing happy birthday to Harry, since he’s spending the night out. He promised to be back at 3, Louis will drive him.<br/>
And as soon as he leaves his house, Harry wants to go back. He wants to stay with Gemma and watch Titanic for the sixth time.<br/>
<br/>
Fuck it. He’s already out now. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. "Space Age Love Song"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>"and you asked me to dance, but i said</i>
  <br/>
  <i>dancing is a dangerous game"</i>
</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you're still reading this, thank you so much! Any feedback is well received. &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>The yellow banana from Andy Warhol’s work in the cover of “The Velvet Underground and Nico” looks like it’s smiling.</em><br/>
<br/>
He walks to the elevator checking his bag.  Keys. Walkman. Cassette. Camera. <em>Fuck, I need to buy gum</em>. Wallet. A ring. Headphones. He probably should’ve brought a scarf.<br/>
When he’s one floor down, a girl comes up and presses the “one” button. Lou Reed can be heard through the headphones. As they go down, she looks at him, squinting her eyes. She smiles.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re Harry.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry turns and sees her. She has brown hair, beautiful blue eyes. And she’s wearing Louis’ green jumper.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m Félicité. Fizzy.” She shakes hands, a firm-quick shake, as she smiles. “I knew it was you.”<br/>
<br/>
“What gave me away?”<br/>
<br/>
She points at both of her eyes. “Glitter”, she squints her eyes again, gets a little closer. “Wet n’ Wild?”<br/>
<br/>
<em>What? </em>“It was my sister. She did it. I wouldn’t know.”<br/>
<br/>
She nods, quietly. “Looks good on ya’, I’ve been wanting to wear more makeup, but dad won’t let me. You’re lucky.”<br/>
<br/>
When they get to the first floor, she walks straight to the parking lot, without saying goodbye. She probably is the coolest sibling. Harry decides he likes her.<br/>
But how did she know about the glitter? No, real question. <em>Why would her brother tell her he wore glitter on his eyes?<br/>
<br/>
</em><br/>
° ° °<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
He walks to Mrs. Bailey’s, she’s checking papers while smoking tobacco. On the outside she put a brand-new sign with bold neon lights. It’s attractive.<br/>
When he enters, “I Only Have Eyes for You” by The Flamingos is playing in the background. The store being empty creates a tiny reverb to the song. That and the blue and purple lights coming from outside and the fairy lights above Mrs. Bailey makes the room feel hauntingly dreamy.<br/>
<br/>
“Look who it is! Birthday boy!” She actually hugs him this time. It feels like hugging your grandma.<br/>
“How are you, dear?”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s tomorrow, actually, but I appreciate the cuddle”, he smirks.<br/>
<br/>
“How can I help you? No! Wait! Pick anything you want, it’s on me.”<br/>
<br/>
“You don’t really have to, Mrs. Bailey-“<br/>
<br/>
“No, no. Shush. Now go pick whatever you want.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry walks through the aisles while “Some Velvet Morning” by Nancy Sinatra is playing. He can’t help but think he could’ve been a perfect Versace model. Why? Because he’s cute when his acne doesn’t betray him. And pretty tall for his age. But he likes Gucci too. He’d love to wear Gucci. Why is he thinking about that? No idea. But the song makes him feel like a 60’s model.<br/>
<br/>
It’s nice to fantasize about that, sometimes. Like him being on parties, wearing a fancy suit with extravagant colors, smoking with a golden cigarette holder, having a bourbon on a crystal glass.<br/>
He likes the fancy stuff. But it’s the 90’s. Wearing trousers long enough to step on them, piercing your face to look like a strainer and dying your hair with no mercy for everyone’s taste are the latest trends.<br/>
That’s why he loves to go to Mrs. Bailey’s. It’s his little trip to another decade, without the obvious sexism and homophobia inherent from the time. It’s not like it’s not happening right now, but it’s nice to not think about it, even if it is to buy some groceries.<br/>
<br/>
He picks some minted gum, a Milky Way and goes to the “Drinks” aisle. He feels like drinking beer, so he takes a six pack. Mrs. Bailey looks at him.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re not 18 yet.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry gets all serious. She’s totally right.<br/>
<br/>
She laughs. “Don’t be silly, it’s ok. You should take cigarettes too!”<br/>
<br/>
“But Mrs. Bailey, I don’t smoke.” <em>This lady is crazy.<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Maybe, but people always look for cigarettes. If you’re looking to start a conversation with someone, carry a pack of ‘em and you’re good. Here, a Lucky Strike’s always welcome by everyone.”<br/>
<br/>
That’s actually helpful advice. Better than “just go and talk to people” kind of advice. He takes it.<br/>
As he walks out of the store waving goodbye to Mrs. Bailey, he puts his headphones and starts to walk. The street is wet because it rained a little earlier, but for Harry it looks lovely. The lights reflect on the floor like a Monet painting.<br/>
<br/>
He's listening to “I’m Waiting for the Man” as he feels the coolest person on the planet. It’s ok to be egocentric from time to time. Or to hype oneself up. He wonders if Andy Warhol would’ve liked him. Freddie Mercury most certainly would’ve been his friend.<br/>
<br/>
He promises himself to have fun, and talk to people, and even maybe try some stuff. Who knows.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
° ° °<br/>
<br/>
When he’s there, he checks his clock. 10:25. <em>Fuck, I’m late.</em><br/>
He knocks the door and Molly opens.<br/>
A heat wave hits him.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey stranger”, she smiles and looks back. “Birthday boy is in the house!”<br/>
<br/>
“Are you microwaving yourselves over there?”, he chuckles.<br/>
<br/>
“Air’s broken”, she nods.<br/>
<br/>
He hears people shouting “Hey”, as he walks in. There are lots of them. Almost everyone came to his party. This is weird.<br/>
Niall is sitting next to Jane and Ella, laughing at something. Liam is serving some drinks with guys from the football team. Sarah is sitting by herself on a couch. There are more people he doesn’t recognize.<br/>
And a random song he doesn’t know the name to. It’s not bad.<br/>
<br/>
“Come on, we don’t bite.”<br/>
<br/>
“Why everyone keeps saying that?” He says as he takes his beers out. “Where should I drop this?”<br/>
<br/>
Jane looks at him. “Fridge! But Harry I told you the drinks were on me!”<br/>
<br/>
“But I wasn’t sure if you had this brand, so I decided not to take a risk”<br/>
<br/>
She makes a pouty face. “Harry, the house is full of Coronas!”<br/>
<br/>
He laughs as he walks to the kitchen.<br/>
Louis is sitting there. <em>Did El stayed home?</em><br/>
<br/>
“Hey, stranger”, he whispers to his ear, which makes him jump a little. He turns around, and his face literally lightens up. He smiles, crinkling his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re here”<br/>
<br/>
“Of course, I’m not missing my own party.”<br/>
<br/>
“To be fair, I think they needed an excuse.” <em>He’s totally right.</em> “What did you buy?”<br/>
<br/>
“Coronas. And some Milky Ways. And gum”<br/>
<br/>
“Did you bring the camera?”<br/>
<br/>
“Of course.” Harry takes off his jacket. “It’s burning over here.”<br/>
<br/>
“Your birthday is literally a sauna.” Louis giggles. “Come on, I want a picture. I look presentable enough.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry takes out his camera, checks everything’s good to go and sits in front of Louis. He doesn’t smile, though. He looks pretty without an effort.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>

</p>
<p>It might not be perfect, but there’s Louis. He would look perfect even in a photo taken by a potato. He looks painfully pretty.<br/>
<br/>
“Let me see!”<br/>
Louis snatches the picture of his hands. “I like it. You actually made me look attractive.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Shush, Harry. Now is not the time to say something stupid. Come on. You can do this. The entire world relies on you to-<br/>
<br/>
</em>“You are attractive, I didn’t do anything. Just clicked a button.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>For fuck sakes.<br/>
<br/>
</em>Louis smirks and blushes. Someone comes in shouting as he puts his arm around him.<br/>
<br/>
“Ooook, party boy. Let’s get you drunk! Lou, let’s go!”<br/>
Niall drags him (again) to where everyone is. There’s a big group on the center of the living room. VH1 is on, TLC is playing on the telly, and Harry is not particularly fond of that genre. He loves the music video, though.<br/>
<br/>
“We’re going to do a little warm up. Never have I ever.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry deeply hates this game. He doesn’t have much to expose, but apparently everyone likes doing so. How is he supposed to get drunk and not drink? Does Niall even fucking know him?<br/>
Eleanor walks down the stairs.<br/>
“What are we playing?” She asks while sitting next to Louis. Louis is sitting in front of him. Molly and Niall on his sides, and next to Niall is Jane and Ella.<br/>
<br/>
“Never have I ever.” Jane says. She looks at Harry. “The girl on the couch said she was your friend. Does she wanna play?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry looks at her. She’s deeply lost in the tv. “Sarah, come on, sit with me.”<br/>
<br/>
She shrugs. “I’d probably lose.” A subtle “uh” can be heard on the room. She lifts up and sits between Harry and Niall.<br/>
“Where’s Mitch?”<br/>
<br/>
“He’s coming later, he’ll drive me to Berlin.”<br/>
<br/>
Niall passes him a pint, which is fine for now.<br/>
<br/>
“Alright. Y’all know the rules. Someone says a statement, if you’ve done it, you drink. If you don’t, you don’t have to drink. Foolproof. Since the host of this party is yours truly, I’ll start by something simple like…” She clears her throat. <em>This is a perfect sitcom-situation.<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Never have I ever kissed someone”<br/>
<br/>
Everybody rolls their eyes as they drink. Louis drinking and looking straight into Harry’s eyes. For, reasons.<br/>
Harry drinks but it’s not like he’s proud of it.<br/>
<br/>
“Nialler, you’re up.”<br/>
<br/>
“Mh, I'm thinking. I want something creative.” He puts his hand on his chin. “Never have I ever checked out a teacher”<br/>
<br/>
They all laugh, and some “yeah” can be heard too. Harry doesn’t remember doing that, except maybe the music teacher. He was objectively hot. He drinks. Yay.<br/>
<br/>
Sarah also clears her throat. “Never have I ever drove a car while drunk”<br/>
Harry doesn’t even drive.<br/>
Just two guys from the football team. “Fair enough, I was checking on all of you”, she smiles.<br/>
<br/>
“Harry?”<br/>
<br/>
Shit. His mind is completely blank.<br/>
<br/>
“Can Molly do it for me?”, he puts his best puppy face.<br/>
<br/>
“Alright. Alright. Never have I ever had sex.”, Molly smiles, malevolent.<br/>
<br/>
Some nervous stares and awkward laughs can be heard as people start to drink one by one. Niall. Jane. Ella. Molly. Sarah. Liam. Literally everyone. Eleanor drinks and looks at Louis. Louis purses his lips and drinks. Now, all eyes are on Harry.<br/>
Bloody hell.<br/>
<br/>
“Dear Harry over here is the only innocent one. What a shocker.” Jane says and reaches to put a hand on his boot.<br/>
<br/>
He sighs. “It’s not like I haven’t had the chance. It’s just not that important to me.” His bruised ego is talking for him, while he blushes violently. He takes a quick look to Louis and he’s looking at him, a cheeky stare.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s ok, your pain will be over soon.”, Molly responds. <em>What the fuck does that mean? </em></p>
<p>“Liam, go on.”<br/>
<br/>
They all start doing some random –quite boring—statements. Harry drinks, sometimes. Sarah looks at him occasionally when someone says something dumb. It's like she reads his mind. She’s literally the only person he’s relying into right now.<br/>
<br/>
“El! Your turn”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, but I don’t know what to say”, she responds laughing. Her arm intertwined with Louis’. “Ella, want to give it a try?”<br/>
<br/>
“Of course!”<br/>
And she looks directly into Harry’s eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“Never have I ever snogged with someone of the same sex.”<br/>
<br/>
Jesus fucking Christ.</p>
<p><br/>
His smile drops quickly.<br/>
They start to look each other, waiting for someone to drink. Sarah’s the first one.<br/>
She looks at him and winks.<br/>
Jane and Liam drink.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you two serious?”, Ella asks her. “Oh my god, you’re so crazy!”<br/>
<br/>
“I know", she laughs. Harry doesn’t want to hear it. “It wasn’t a big deal.”<br/>
<br/>
“Exactly! It’s literally so normal.” Liam responds<br/>
<br/>
“Liam, you were drunk.” Louis chuckles. <em>How does he know?<br/>
<br/>
</em>“It still counts, right?”<br/>
<br/>
“Right”, Ella responds. Still looking at Harry.<br/>
<br/>
Harry lifts up. “I’m… going to use the bathroom.”<br/>
“You know where it is, love”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
He basically runs upstairs and hides there for 10 minutes. That shit was shady. Completely uncalled for. Harry feels mad because that can’t be a fucking coincidence. She’s literally into something. She wanted to expose him because she suspects, right? He looks at himself in the mirror and takes a glance of his eye glitter. Of course she suspects. He washes his face off. Someone knocks.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you alive over there?”<br/>
<br/>
Staying –more like hiding—there probably wasn’t a good idea if he tried to not be that obvious.<br/>
He opens the door and Sarah is waiting outside.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s ok Harry. She was a total cunt.” Harry looks at her, scared, obviously.<br/>
She shrugs. “It’s not like I didn’t notice. I’m not dumb. Your body turned into fuckin’ wood when she mentioned “same sex”. No one’s safe from my gaydar.” She points at her right temple. <em>Her what?<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Your what?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m bi. I know a scared queer when I see one. Been there.” She says that as if it’s her everyday job, to spot scared queers at birthday parties. “Your secret’s safe with me, but I’m not sure if you’re safe with Molly. She was literally devouring you with her eyes.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry sighs. He’s definitely staying next to Sarah all night.<br/>
They go down and catch the group playing something else.<br/>
<br/>
“Come on, Harry, sit. We’re playing truth or dare.”<br/>
<br/>
He sits but doesn't join the group completely. He doesn’t know why, but after that encounter he could trust Sarah his own life. It’s weird. She gives him comfort with just her presence.<br/>
And Louis is too far for that.<br/>
<br/>
They make some dumb questions and dares, even Liam gets to tell how he kissed a guy, once on a party after he won a match. For him it was so natural. Enviable, even. <br/>
<br/>
“Louis, truth or dare?”<br/>
<br/>
“Mmm… alright, truth.”<br/>
<br/>
Niall smiles, “when was the last time you did <em>the dirty?</em>”. He puts especial emphasis in “dirty”.<br/>
Harry definitely doesn’t want to know that.<br/>
<br/>
Louis sips, thinks and says, with his whole chest: “I think I don’t remember, actually.”<br/>
Eleanor strikes him on his arm. Louis laughs. “It’s not like I want to share that information with everyone, love.”<br/>
<br/>
And Harry sighs again, relieved.<br/>
<br/>
“Harry, truth or dare.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Fuck.</em><br/>
<br/>
“Mmm, truth.”<br/>
<br/>
“Who was the last person you kissed?”<br/>
<br/>
The memory of Lily gets stuck on his throat like he just drank a cup full of nails. Niall looks at Harry and immediately knows what’s going on, since Harry can’t even bring himself to talk.<br/>
“He probably doesn’t even remember; he was so wasted in the new year's.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Thank you, Niall.<br/>
</em>Louis looks at Harry, again, studying his reaction.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, ok.” Jane nods.<br/>
<br/>
“Dare, then. Fuck it.”<br/>
<br/>
“I dare you to kiss your friend over there”, Jane points at Sarah.<br/>
<br/>
“She’s taken. Married. Can’t do it.” He chuckles and sips from his cup, praying god to save him from this one. <br/>
<br/>
“Snog Molly, then”, Ella smiles. <em>Fuck off.<br/>
<br/>
</em>Molly automatically crawls towards Harry. He didn’t even say a thing<em>. It won’t be that terrible, right?</em> He can kiss girls. It’s the <em>touching </em>part he hates.<br/>
She kisses him and her lips are soft. Like velvet. It’s not that bad.<br/>
<br/>
“Alright. Alright, lovebirds.” Jane strikes Molly on her leg.<br/>
<br/>
She sits back and Harry looks at Louis. He doesn’t look back. He’s pressing his lips and tapping his foot.<br/>
He looks angry. <em>What?</em><br/>
“Imma catch another pint.” He gets up.<br/>
And Harry goes after him like a puppy. People don’t seem to care, or notice, since they keep playing.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
“You look agitated”, Louis still won’t look at him. Harry doesn’t know why he feels the sudden need of giving him an explanation. Louis looks at him, teasing, but his eyes still sad for a reason. “That was a proper birthday gift, innit?”<br/>
<br/>
“It was awkward. I… I’m rather fond of cameras as birthday presents, you know what I mean?”<br/>
<br/>
Louis looks up, and sighs. “I’m glad you liked it.”<br/>
<br/>
“The camera or the kiss?”<br/>
<br/>
“Both, I guess?”<br/>
<br/>
“But I didn’t really like the-“<br/>
<br/>
“Pack it up, <em>lovebird</em>”<br/>
<br/>
And he leaves.<br/>
<em>The fuck? Why is he suddenly acting so…</em><br/>
<br/>
“HARRY! BRING YOUR ARSE BACK HERE.”<br/>
<br/>
He quickly takes another Corona and goes to the room. Everyone is on their feet.<br/>
<br/>
“Happy birthday, boyo!”<br/>
<br/>
And Jane’s holding a muffin with a little candle on top.<br/>
This is a fuckin’ sitcom.<br/>
<br/>
Everyone starts singing, and he can’t see shit since they turned the lights off. He wants to run away, leave his boots by the door, take all of his clothes off and hide under his soft, warm covers. He hates it when people sing to him because he doesn’t know what to do. Loves the gesture, nonetheless, but here he is still, surrounded by strangers who probably didn’t know it was his birthday ‘til that very moment.<br/>
<br/>
“Make a wish, darling.”<br/>
<br/>
He leans and blows the little candle. It’s cute. They turn the lights on, and Jane gives him the muffin.<br/>
People start clapping and, suddenly, Harry feels older than he is. He’s 18 now. Old enough to have responsibilities but too young to have opinions that actually matter to the world. Too old to cry, but too young to love. He’s right in the middle, and it’s a weird feeling.<br/>
<br/>
“Alright, we’re leaving in 20! Please drink like there’s no tomorrow because I won’t be buying more booze!”<br/>
<br/>
A group starts walking upstairs. Sarah’s laughing from the other side of the room.<br/>
“That was so fucking awkward.”<br/>
<br/>
They both laugh. “Yep, never doing it again”, he starts eating it.<br/>
<br/>
“Happy birthday, by the way. I’ll buy you something when we get there. Do you want to share a car with us? Or do you want to walk?”, Sarah smirks.<br/>
<br/>
“I’d be more than happy to take the ride, thank you.”<br/>
<br/>
“Mitch will be here in 10.”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
He hears someone calls his name from upstairs and Harry goes as he finishes the muffin. It tastes weird, like chocolate and something he can’t put his finger on. The group is at Jane’s room, smoking a blunt.<br/>
<br/>
“So? Did you like it?” Jane asks. He nods in silence. “See? I told you he’d like it.”<br/>
<br/>
“Harry, you know what was in it, right?”<br/>
<br/>
Fuck. Shit. Fuck.<br/>
<br/>
Harry opens his mouth as he realizes. He’s going to be zooted the rest of the night.<br/>
<br/>
“You know what? Fuck it. I came here to have fun so I’m having fun.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis is looking at him, standing on the same place from the first time they talked, but now he’s talking to El and Ella. Harry doesn’t know why he is so mad, like, Harry didn’t do anything in particular to bother him. He has his picture on his pocket, for fuck sakes!<br/>
<br/>
° ° °<br/>
The wind caresses Harry’s face, as he’s laying on the car’s door. The window’s down. His curls moving, dancing with the song Sarah and Mitch are playing.<br/>
<br/>
“What is this song?” Harry can barely open his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
Sarah turns back. “It’s Slowdive. I can lend you the CD if you want. This song is beautiful to drive at night, right?”<br/>
<br/>
Mitch agrees in silence. The singer’s voice touches Harry’s soul, like a mantra, as he feels like the main character of a John Hughes movie. A gothic one. He feels like a bird without doing the actual effort of flying. The song makes him feel purple, like violets. Violets being caressed by the wind. The song is magical.<br/>
<br/>
“Tell me the name, please”, he closes his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“'Crazy for You', I’ll mark it down for you”<br/>
<br/>
They go through a tunnel and all Harry can think about is Louis eyes. He misses them. He misses this morning when they had a little cuddle on his bed. He gave him a camera. He spoiled him. He posed for his picture. And now he’s acting weird, like that day at the rooftop. He doesn’t like it when Louis acts weird, like a caged bird. He’s too beautiful to be a caged bird. Harry imagines himself with his face buried on his neck, smelling his perfect vanilla-baby-powder-clean-clothes scent.<br/>
<br/>
Harry wishes he could dip the club and stay in the car with Mitch and Sarah, driving through the city at night. They look like a hand made couple. Also, their taste is amazing. It's literally Harry’s taste. Maybe he could ask them more about shoegaze. He’s loving it.<br/>
<br/>
Mitch parks a few blocks from Berlin.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you ready? How are you feelin’?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry’s hair is a mess, his eyes red and a dumb smile on his face. “M’okay. Let’s go<em>uuuu</em>”<br/>
<br/>
They walk to the entrance and some people from the party are waiting outside. Harry notices Mitch is wearing a black long leather coat, whereas Sarah’s wearing a red cardigan and a black skirt. He feels like walking with the coolest people on this city.<br/>
<br/>
“Yay. Birthday boy is here! Let’s get inside!” Niall is high as a kite.<br/>
<br/>
“Is everyone here already?”<br/>
<br/>
“We’re waiting for Louis, El, Ella and Liam” Jane chuckles. “But they know the way, come on.”<br/>
<br/>
There’s a line of people waiting to get in. Harry perceives the amount of different style clothing, all colors and sizes. Spikes on heads, black lipsticks, crop-tops, leather jackets, flamboyant makeup, sweaters with sparks and wild colors. Skaters, punks, a whole mix of people. Some of them look uninterested, some look friendly.<br/>
The guard greets Jane with a kiss on her cheek, and they start walking in. Harry recognizes the song. “Hey Boy Hey Girl”, by The Chemical Brothers. It’s catchy, but not his taste.<br/>
<br/>
The cashier is sitting right next to the entrance. He notices a baseball bat next to her, as she’s reading a book about moral anarchy. She looks up.<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t worry, it’s just in case a bloody skinhead decides to show up.” She’s wearing a similar glitter he was using earlier, with some silver stones decorating her eyebrows and a strong magenta lipstick. “How many?”<br/>
<br/>
“There’s 17 of us. Come on, give us a nice discount, love.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry looks back at Sarah and she has her hands on her pocket and a soothing smile on her face, like this is her home. It must be strange, to feel a place like this as home. He can imagine why, though. Music makes you feel any place like home.<br/>
<br/>
They start walking down the stairs, since the dancefloor is underground. Strobe lights and a strong smell of alcohol, cheap perfume, sweat and hair products hits him right. The Chemical Brothers’ Block Rockin’ Beats deafening him, as the club seems full. A gigantic screen is behind the DJ playing music videos, some sofas with people drinking while trying to talk. The walls are white, with some scribbles written on Sharpie. The floor is barely visible. There’s another door that leads to another dance floor.<br/>
<br/>
So this is Berlin, eh.<br/>
If only his mum knew where he’s right now.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
They all start dancing on their own, joining their groups they came with originally. Niall gets missing fast, so Harry follows Sarah and Mitch to the other dancefloor. They’re playing “Step On”, by Happy Mondays. Some green and blue lights play with the fake smoke on people’s faces, as they dance carelessly. Harry is starting to enjoy it.<br/>
<br/>
“Have you ever been here before?” Sarah shouts. Harry shakes his head. “We come every Friday. It’s cheaper. We love it.” Mitch nods, with a drink on his hand already. <em>How?</em> <em>When?</em><br/>
<br/>
Harry feels like a massive dork dancing, but again, no one seems to care. Sarah buys him a strawberry mojito, and it’s good. Makes him a bit tipsy. Some bangers are playing right now and he’s beginning to like the place.<br/>
<br/>
“They’ll play an 80’s special at 2. You're gonna love it!” She says.<br/>
Harry starts to observe people around him. It’s, again, a mix of styles and brands. He even manages to spot a gay couple – maybe calling them couple is too exaggerated but they’re most definitely making out—which makes him feel safe. He can help but to wonder where’s the other group, who literally ditched him the moment they got in. It’s not like he cares that much, but he misses having private time with Niall, at least on his birthday.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Let’s dance, little stranger,<br/>
show me secret sins,<br/>
love can be like bondage,<br/>
seduce me once again.<br/>
<br/>
</em>“What’s this song?” Harry shouts.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s a cover”, Mitch responds. “I’ll lend you their tape later.” <em>He talks?</em><br/>
<br/>
The place feels too warm, so he takes off his jumper and leaves his stuff next to Sarah’s. He notices one boy looking at him from the sofa. He winks at him. Harry panics and goes back to their friends.<br/>
<br/>
“Oi”, Sarah looks back. “You have company!”<br/>
<br/>
Harry turns around, it’s Louis.<br/>
He looks tired. And a bit high.<br/>
<br/>
“May I have a little dance with the birthday boy?”<br/>
He offers his hand and Harry grabs it. He takes him to the other side of the floor.<br/>
They’re alone and surrounded by people. But it’s only them.<br/>
<br/>
Finally.<br/>
<br/>
Harry remembers the first night they danced together, but now he’s not that sober -- or lucid, for a change--, he can’t see him clearly. It’s just sensations. His hands moving, his hair touched by the lights, his serious face with a strange smile on it. Some French new-wave song starts playing and that’s how he knows it’s almost 2, as he finishes his drink and leaves it on a table.<br/>
<br/>
“How are you?”, Harry asks.<br/>
<br/>
“M'tired. But I’m already here. Are you having fun?”<br/>
<br/>
“I am. Sarah and Mitch are so nice to me.”<br/>
<br/>
“What about the other people?” Harry shrugs his shoulders. “Did they leave you on your birthday?”<br/>
<br/>
“Nah, I came here. They didn’t even notice”, he giggles.<br/>
Louis smiles. Harry can’t stop comparing him to the sun every time he does.<br/>
“Where’s El?”<br/>
<br/>
“She wanted to go home, so I dropped her by and came here with Liam and Ella. They’re… somewhere, I guess.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Good.<br/>
<br/>
</em>The song it’s hypnotic, just like Louis’ drunken eyes. He licks his lips occasionally and he doesn’t know how to interpret that. Doesn’t matter. The floor is big enough for them to get lost for a while. Sarah and Mitch are now nowhere to be seen. Something tingles on his belly.<br/>
<br/>
When the next song starts to play, Louis’ face literally changes.<br/>
“The song! Your shirt!”<br/>
<br/>
Of course. “Relax”, by Frankie Goes to Hollywood is blasting. Harry starts watching the video on the screen, since he has never seen it, actually. It’s pretty bizarre, but he likes bizarre.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you ok, Lou?”<br/>
<br/>
“Why are you asking?”, he says as he keeps dancing.<br/>
<br/>
“Just checking.”</p>
<p>A drastic change of genre takes place, as “Come On, Eileen” starts to play now. Harry loves this song.<br/>
People start to dance more enthusiastically, and it’s contagious. He grabs Louis hands and makes him spin as they sync their movements. Harry can’t stop smiling, which makes Louis smile. It’s like sunflowers facing each other when the sun is out. It’s pure joy, whatever happened on Jane’s house seems like it’s now forgotten.<br/>
Harry closes his eyes as he dances, he wants to consume the moment. He spins and almost falls, if it wasn’t for Louis that grabbed his arm in time. They laugh again. <em><br/>
<br/>
</em>And Louis steps closer. Fuck.<br/>
<br/>
And Harry decides he doesn’t give a fuck anymore. It’s his birthday.<br/>
So he puts his arms around Louis’ neck.<br/>
<br/>
He waits for a reaction, but the only thing Louis does is to put his arms around Harry’s waist and bring him even more close.<br/>
<br/>
And bloody “Space Age Love Song” starts to play. So convenient.<br/>
They swing from side to side, as they dance and keep smiling. Harry decides to check if someone is looking at them, but everyone is on their own. No one cares. Maybe this is why Sarah loves Berlin.<br/>
<br/>
Harry looks directly into Louis’ eyes. “Why were you so mad at me before?”<br/>
<br/>
He sighs. “I wasn’t”<br/>
<br/>
“You were. I’m not blind.”<br/>
<br/>
He sighs again and puts his face on Harry’s chest, as he prays to God, if there’s one, that he doesn’t notices how hard his heart is beating. They keep swinging to the song, and Harry can’t help but to feel like Jennifer Connelly in Career Opportunities. Louis lifts his head a little and starts breathing on Harry’s neck. It gives him goosebumps.<br/>
<br/>
“Lou?”<br/>
“Love Will Tears Us Apart Again” is now filling the room.<br/>
Louis looks into Harry’s eyes. And lips. And it’s like he’s taking a mental photograph of his face. His hands don’t move from his waist, though. He’s so close to him, even closer than the first night they hang out, and it’s physically painful. It’s always been a little painful. All those times hanging out on his room, at school, on the elevator. Harry chose him as his friend but obviously he’d still have a crush on him. It’s not like he has a say about that. Usually, he can hide his feelings under sarcastic comments, fun facts and jokes.<br/>
<br/>
Harry is scared because there’s nothing he can do at this moment. He’s been imagining himself being this close to Louis that now, when he’s 10 centimeters away from his face, it feels frustrating. He’d rather have him 10 meters away and to know what’s going on by now.<br/>
Because he’s not talking. He's staring right into his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“What’s wrong?”<br/>
<br/>
Louis looks at him, taking a deep breath. He stops moving.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m trying.”<br/>
<br/>
Smalltown Boy by Bronski Beat starts playing.<br/>
<br/>
“But you’re making it impossible.”<br/>
<br/>
He looks at the floor again, moving his hands out of Harry’s waist.<br/>
<br/>
“What do you mean by that?” Louis starts walking. <em>No. No. Please. </em>Harry’s first instinct is to grab him by his hand. “Lou, come on. You can’t say shit like that and-“<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sorry, Harry.” He really looks like he’s about to cry. “I just wish things were different. I…” Louis looks like he can’t breathe. “I wish my life wasn’t a bloody mess right now and that I could give you what you deserve. Because you deserve so much, like…” He holds Harry’s face into his hands. “You deserve everything that’s good in the world and you don’t even realize that. You… You walk around like you didn’t know how much you’re worth and I swear everyone else is so… ordinary. You make the rest of the world look ordinary.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry doesn’t even understand what he’s talking about.<br/>
Does he?<br/>
<br/>
“So you were mad at me because…”<br/>
<br/>
Louis takes his hands down.<br/>
<br/>
“Because I want you”<br/>
<br/>
And he leaves.<br/>
And now he understands.<br/>
It’s mutual.<br/>
<br/>
He’s alone now. Everyone else’s caught on their own little worlds enough to miss Harry’s confused heart. He decides to go out because now he can’t breathe. There are so many questions on his head. <em>Why did he ask me to be his friend, then? Why can’t he just break up with Eleanor and be with me? Why can’t he talk to me?<br/>
<br/>
</em>The cold breeze from outside gives him goosebumps, again. Niall is in front of the street talking to people he doesn’t probably know.<br/>
<br/>
“Love, hey. Do you have a cig?” A boy with heavily blonde dyed hair touches his shoulder. Harry nods and gives him a Lucky. He lights it up as he leans on the wall. “What’s your name?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m H.”<br/>
<br/>
“Lovely”, he keeps smoking. “Why so sad?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry leans on the wall too. “I’m… I don’t know.”<br/>
<br/>
“Come on, tell me. We don’t know each other so feel free to vent. I love gossip." He smiles. Harry feels blessed by this stranger.<br/>
<br/>
“I have a friend. He is…”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, I see, it’s a “he””, his smile widens even more. “Now I’m invested. Go on.”<br/>
<br/>
“He is such a wonderful person. He’s… he’s amazing.”<br/>
<br/>
“And you love him”, the boy tries his best to catch up.<br/>
“I don’t. Not yet. It’s just I’m not supposed to like him because he has a girlfriend. And now he just said he wants me.”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t waste your time, love.” He puffs his cigarette, then he looks at him. “You won’t be able to get out of there. They’ll tell you they love you and boom – he snaps his fingers –, you’re ruined. And then you’ll have to spend the rest of your life waiting for him to be brave. And he’ll promise that. A bunch of times. And you’ll wait. And wait. And you’ll want more. You'll feel guilty and worthless when actually he's just afraid. You deserve better than that. You deserve someone who's willing to try.”<br/>
<br/>
Liam interrupts them.<br/>
<br/>
“Harry! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”, he has his jumper on his arm. “Your friends had to leave earlier, but they told me to look after you. Are you ok?”<br/>
The boy looks at him.<br/>
<br/>
“I think so. But now I don’t have a ride home.”<br/>
<br/>
“Let me drive you! Where are you staying?”<br/>
<br/>
“Fairview?”<br/>
<br/>
He opens his eyes. “Brilliant! I’m driving just there. Come on.”<br/>
<br/>
The boy hugs Harry, and whispers to his ear. “You’ll be alright, prioritize yourself.”<br/>
And just like that, he goes back to Berlin. Harry believes he could’ve been a fairy god-mother, with good advice instead of a pretty dress.<br/>
<br/>
They walk to Liam’s car.<br/>
And Louis is leaning against it. Waiting.<br/>
He looks at him, clearly not expecting Harry.<br/>
<br/>
“Lou, you didn’t tell me Harry lived in your building”, Liam takes out his keys as he goes into his car. Louis sits in the front and Harry in the back seat. Once he’s inside, the world feels a thousand times heavier.<br/>
<br/>
“I live in his building, actually. He’s the senior.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry doesn’t respond, since the words of the fairy boy still are rumbling on his head.</p>
<p><em>Prioritize yourself.<br/>
<br/>
</em>The magical tunnel lights don’t seem that magical now, because the truth hits him hard and there’s no space to feel special. Liking boys is not casual. It’s still a big deal. It is since homophobic people still exist. Since people like him get killed every year. Since not long ago, liking boys was illegal. Of course he can’t ask Louis to drop everything and be with him, even if his selfish self wants that. He just can’t. Everybody knows that. If he was a girl things would be completely different. </p>
<p>Of course he's scared too.<br/>
And it hurts.<br/>
Because now that he knows it’s mutual, the idea of asking-Louis-to-drop-everything-and-be-with-him sounds even more attractive.<br/>
<br/>
“Chop-chop. We’re here.” Liam is still as adorable as ever.<br/>
<br/>
Louis shakes his hand and thanks him; he doesn’t even wait for Harry to leave the car. Harry says good night and leaves too.<br/>
<br/>
Louis is waiting for the elevator.<br/>
He waits next to him.<br/>
No one says a word.<br/>
<br/>
A little “ding” lets them know it’s there. They go up. Still not a word. Harry takes a glance of Louis and his eyes are closed, shaking a little. Might be the cold air. Another “ding” lets them know they’re at Louis’ floor.<br/>
The door opens up, but he doesn’t move. Again.<br/>
He sighs and starts to walk.<br/>
<br/>
“Lou."<br/>
<br/>
<em>Fuck it. Fuck it. Fuck it.<br/>
<br/>
</em>Louis turns around. He looks like a hurt puppy. Smaller.<br/>
<br/>
“I want you too.”<br/>
<br/>
And the door closes, leaving a jaw-dropped Louis behind.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>credits to @/fireprince for the <a href="https://fireprince.tumblr.com/post/139453566121/in-his-lips-like-tangerines-in-his-color-coded">edit</a>!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. "Well I Wonder"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>"ocean blue eyes looking in mine,</i>
  <br/>
  <i>i feel like i might sink and drown and die"</i>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <em>“Dear Harry,<br/>
<br/>
If you opened this note before 12, save it. Wait for it, you anxious fuck.<br/>
But if it’s time, then…<br/>
<br/>
You’re 18!!! Surprise!!!<br/>
<br/>
(To be fair there wasn’t a proper reason for you to don’t open this note ‘til 12.<br/>
Besides, maybe, to tell you how special you are. But you already know that.)<br/>
<br/>
Don’t forget about me when you’re 30 and all successful!<br/>
See you in a bit, probably.<br/>
<br/>
Lou. x”<br/>
<br/>
</em> </strong>
</p><p><strong><em><br/>
</em></strong>The note lays on Harry’s bed, next to the picture he took from him that night. Harry has memorized every single word and detail from both of them: The cereal boxes behind him, his white and red stripped shirt, his left eyebrow subtly raised, the two bottles in front of him, Jane’s doors, his messy hair, his pink lips.<br/>
<br/>
That’s all he has now, memories immortalized in objects.<br/>
<br/>
Because it’s been almost three months since the elevator “incident”.<br/>
 <br/>
And they haven’t really talked, at least, not in the way they used to.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
The night Harry got home after his birthday party + little visit to Berlin was probably one of the longest nights in Harry’s short life. He couldn’t bring himself to sleep. He felt too overwhelmed by the situation, and unsaid questions spiraled around his mind for hours. Every kind of question. And feeling. <em>He wants me, he can’t be with me. He knows I want him too.<br/>
</em>Countless interpretations of his reaction to it were made, for sure. <em>Was it anger? Happiness? Sadness? How much expression he could show into five seconds of reaction? </em><br/>
And, of course, the future.<br/>
<em>Will he talk to me again? Does this mean anything? Will he knock at my door asking me to be his boyfriend? Will something change? </em><br/>
Even though Harry hates to admit it, he actually thought things were going to change. For good, at least.<br/>
But he couldn’t be further from the truth.<br/>
<br/>
He slept for three hours. His mum woke him up with a small cake –he got immediate flashbacks of the muffin—and an “18” candle lightened up.<br/>
And Harry felt nostalgic, even if this was his moment.<br/>
Because apart from the poor sleep he got, the questions wouldn’t leave him be, not even in that special moment, with the people he loves the most in the world. They had breakfast –Harry’s personal favorite—and they talked about fun stuff. Made his mind feel briefly occupied. Robin got home later to pick them up. They spent the day at his house.<br/>
<br/>
Harry has always loved Robin’s house, but he knows how much his mum likes the flat too. She likes it because she gets to spend time with her kids, and because “she doesn’t want to get lost into her relationship like she did with Des”. Harry thinks it’s nice, because it also gives them space on their own with the house. Trips to Robin’s house are always welcomed.<br/>
<br/>
Except that his mind didn’t let him enjoy the evening.<br/>
Like, he started thinking about Louis’ neck while playing Street Fighter.<br/>
And Louis’ hands while having dinner.<br/>
And Louis’ eyes on the drive back home.<br/>
<br/>
It was definitely exhausting.<br/>
<br/>
Obviously, he ran to the telephone to check for voicemails. None. Empty as the Sahara.<br/>
And Sunday was quite similar.<br/>
He dressed up for nothing and sat on the sofa to watch the telly. Waiting for someone to knock the door and, probably, to give him the answers to the over-thought questions on his head.<br/>
Nothing.<br/>
Absolutely nothing.<br/>
<br/>
He fell asleep by 10:21<br/>
<br/>
On Monday, he raced on his bike to school while listening to The Smiths. The morning was foggy, so it’s not an exaggeration to say he almost crushed a couple of times. His heart beating fast while walking on the hallways, trying to bump into Louis, hoping he’d say something to ease his anxiety.<br/>
<br/>
And they encountered, but he barely looked at him.<br/>
<br/>
Niall and Louis were sitting together at the cafeteria, apparently studying for something. Harry went and said hi, but only Niall said it back. He talked to him about stuff he didn’t pay attention to, but not because he was rude or anything but because he was expecting at least for Louis to look at him.<br/>
Or talk.<br/>
Or even say hi.<br/>
<br/>
But he didn’t.<br/>
He straight up ignored him.<br/>
Obviously, it made him ask himself more questions.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
After such an awful reunion, which shattered his illusions completely, Harry turned into this moody, distracted, anxious self that he hasn’t really met before. Every word that didn’t come from Louis mouth became insignificant. Harry stayed like that for two weeks.<br/>
<br/>
He would catch him looking back twice, after school and during lunch. Always with a sad, resentful look. Harry thinks he was probably looking for him because, in effect, he stopped hanging out with the group. It was too much for him. It’s not like they noticed Harry’s absence, anyway.<br/>
He started hanging out with Sarah and Mitch instead.<br/>
<br/>
And it was nice, genuinely nice.<br/>
<br/>
At first it was a I’m-lonely-please-adopt-me kind of thing, but afterwards it became a routine. Harry would have lunch with them sometimes at the cafeteria, and if the day was nice enough, they would sit in the grass.<br/>
<br/>
The band rehearsals were doing fairly good. Harry used the breaks to chat with Niall. They’ve been apart lately, but the friendship is still as strong as ever. He doesn’t like how Niall is changing, though. He’s adapting too much. He’s even using some slangs they used to laugh at.<br/>
Harry hasn’t told him about the whole situation with Louis, especially now that they both hang out more often.<br/>
<br/>
He told Sarah.<br/>
And Mitch, by consequence.<br/>
<br/>
Since he’s free on Thursdays and Tuesdays, sometimes they hang out together after school at Sarah’s house. Harry thinks that’s been one of the few new positive aspects on his new routine after Louis started to pretend he doesn’t exist.<br/>
Her house is very stylish. Her mom and dad are just as blunt as her, which Harry values a lot. Her room always smells like patchouli incense and perfume, has some vintage band posters and like a hundred books. Also, the best feature on her room, a macrame swing chair hanging from her ceiling. And a proper cassette player.<br/>
<br/>
Because these last two months, all they do is to hang out on Sarah’s room, discuss albums and music videos, watch toons if they feel like it –especially Daria on MTV–, eat cereal or pizza when it’s late, laugh at their own dumb stories, go to a drive-through if they feel like eating fries and, sometimes, share a smoke. Smoking makes Harry feel even more inspired.<br/>
<br/>
Harry has gotten to know them a little bit, and for the first time in years, he feels included in a group. Even if they’re just two people. Mitch spends too much time choosing what to wear, has a kitten smile when he laughs –something he considers to be rare– and has been growing his hair for two years now. Sarah’s guilty pleasure is the Spice Girls, she even has a Polaroid 600’s Spice Girl edition hiding somewhere. She likes tea with two of sugar, quotes Daria too many times and likes to play with Mitch’s hair.<br/>
<br/>
Harry has been introduced to so many genres, from reggae artists like Alton Ellis and Lee Perry to shoegaze must-hear bands like the Cocteau Twins and My Bloody Valentine. They even debated once if punk was born on England, America or Perú. The answer, Harry thinks, is one of the big mysteries in life.<br/>
<br/>
“If I were you I wouldn’t think too much about it.”<br/>
One day, Sarah noticed how Harry’s face got all sad when a The Stone Roses music video showed on tv. Of course he told him all about Louis’ taste. Mitch thinks he’d be a nice person to hang out with, if what Harry says about him is true.<br/>
Because Harry still can’t help it. He misses him, even as a friend.<br/>
That’s pretty much one of the reasons he keeps trying new things.</p><p>Like clubbing.<br/>
<br/>
Going to Berlin on Fridays has become another new cool thing on Harry’s life. He even got better at dancing, even though he still feels like Charlie Brown. Now that he’s a “regular”, he has gotten to meet lots of people. Musicians, artists, uni students, even producers. Since Sarah and Mitch have been into music for a while, they know people from the scene. A thing that works good for Harry. Music is mostly connections between talented people and people you don’t care too much about.<br/>
<br/>
Also, he decided to live life a little.<br/>
It’s not like he’s married or anything.<br/>
<br/>
So he kissed a boy.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
It was a Friday by the end of March. Niall called him yesterday to tell him he missed him, and if he wanted to join him to watch the boys play a match against another school. Harry desperately wanted to say no, but also he missed Niall. “Ok, I’ll go. But only for a little while.” Harry said by the phone, hoping Niall wouldn’t ask him to stay longer.<br/>
<br/>
He didn’t.<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Let me see if I get your idea right: You’re ditching us tomorrow to watch a footie, and not only a normal footie, but a match where the boy who ignored you after you told him you fancied him is playing?” Sarah grinned, raising an eyebrow.<br/>
</em><br/>
“Yep. Exactly. I most certainly have a pain kink.” Harry nods, while playing with the telephone cord. <em>She can’t see you, stop nodding. </em>“But it’s not like I’m ditching you, we were supposed to meet by 9.”<br/>
<br/>
She giggles. <em>“But Harry, we were going to the movies together. Remember? American History X?”</em><br/>
<br/>
Shit.<br/>
<br/>
“Can’t you go with Mitch?”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“He’s having dinner with his dad. Come on, Louis doesn’t deserve your holy presence and you see Niall often. Besides, Edward Norton.”</em><br/>
<br/>
“But Sarah-“<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Edward Norton, Harry.”</em><br/>
<br/>
She definitely has a point.<br/>
<br/>
“Alright, I’ll be there by 7. If you could by the tickets before just in case?”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“If you ditch me, I’ll hate you for the rest of your life.”</em><br/>
<br/>
“Take care you too.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry decides to go full-on Damon Albarn to the match. He wears a black windbreaker with a red t-shirt, some blue Levi’s and black Converse. Suitable. Not too exaggerated.<br/>
He meets Niall at 5 and they watch the match. They talk about the group and how everyone has gotten a bit closer. Although, he has noticed Louis more serious and a bit stressed since Harry doesn’t hang out with them anymore. Harry pretends he doesn’t care that much, so Niall won’t ask him too many questions. Like always, he understands. It’s like they communicate telepathically.<br/>
They lose by 1 score. Louis looks pissed off and honestly is a bit terrifying.<br/>
<br/>
“Come on, let’s chat to the lads!”<br/>
They go inside the locker room and it’s a mixed vibe between sad, angry and chill guys. Liam is one of the latter.<br/>
<br/>
“Harry! Haven’t seen you in a while!” Liam welcomes him with a huge smile and sighs. “We sucked today; I know. I know.”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t worry, it’s not like I noticed.” Harry tries to comfort him. “I’m not that much into football.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know, it’d be like that at first. But after you learn about it a little bit, it gets quite intense.” Liam dries his hair with the towel.<br/>
<br/>
Harry scrunches his nose. “I don’t think it has ever caught my attention, honestly.” He’s trying to not be rude.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
“Why did you come, then?” Louis's voice runs down his spine as if a bucket of cold water has been thrown at his face. He’s untying his shoes. “Why did you bother, if you’re not “that” into football?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry wants to run. Now.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s not like he doesn’t care, Lou. He just wanted to be nice, hang out and support his mates.” Niall tries to cool the situation down. Harry doesn’t know what to answer, honestly. This is the first time Louis addresses his existence, like, in a while.<br/>
<br/>
He scoffs. “He doesn’t even hang out with you anymore, right? You told me that. He doesn’t care that much, he just said it.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m right here, Louis. It’s not like I’m not listening to you.” His voice is barely audible. “That’s not true.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, so you still hang out?”<br/>
<em>What the fuck is wrong with him.<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Why do you care?” Harry scowls and shakes his head. “I just came here to show my support. That’s all.”<br/>
<br/>
“Then why can’t you just pretend you’re interested instead of telling Liam about how boring and unsuitable of your taste football is?”<br/>
<em><br/>
</em>Niall looks at Harry. His eyes just as confused. “Lou, come on. Chill ou-“<br/>
<br/>
“I never said it is boring. I’m just not going to pretend I’m into something I’m really not. I’m not like that.” Harry shrugs, as he hears someone laughing behind a locker.<br/>
<br/>
“Of course you’re not.” Louis looks directly into his eyes. Colder than Titanic’s iceberg.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re so fucking pretentious.”<br/>
<br/>
And then he leaves to the showers.<br/>
<em>Pretentious.</em><br/>
Harry knows Louis knows how much he dislikes that word. They discussed it. It’s not like he’s completely clueless.<br/>
He said that to piss him off. To bother him.<br/>
It worked.<br/>
<br/>
Harry keeps his sight fixated on the wet floor. He knows Niall and Liam are looking at each other, confused.<br/>
He looks at Niall. He shakes his head and whispers back a “go, I’ll call you tomorrow. It’s ok.”<br/>
Liam pats him softly on his back before Harry leaves.<br/>
<br/>
His blood is boiling, his heart is pumping a hundred and twenty bpm.<br/>
Louis’ bitterness towards him was completely unnecessary. He’s used to people being mean, but not Louis. Louis. The same boy who called him special on his birthday, that gave him a cuddle on his bed, that used to call him on Sunday nights to tell him about his day.<br/>
<br/>
He feels utterly betrayed.<br/>
And he has all the right to feel as if.<br/>
Why is he the one mad at him? He should be the one who’s angry. Who’s bitter. Louis is the one who ignored him on the first place. Did he retaliate his frustration on him because they didn’t win the bloody match? Because he didn’t score? Is it something else? Why is it suddenly his fault? Why did he deserve that <em>pretentious </em>bullshit? He was being nice, for fuck’s sake.<br/>
<br/>
Harry starts biking, without music. Only his never-ending questions, as he’s struggling to remember why he even liked him in the first place.</p><p> </p><p>The movie basically reflects on how fucked up society is, and Harry can’t help but to remember the bat the cashier had next to her on his first night at Berlin. People like Edward Norton’s character still exist. <em>That’s terrifying.<br/>
<br/>
</em>Besides that, Harry got really drown out because of Louis, so every time and then he would stop watching the movie consciously just to think about the situation. Now Harry feels bitter.<br/>
Because fuck him.<br/>
Fuck Louis.<br/>
Fuck waiting for answers. Fuck it.<br/>
He waited enough.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m making out with someone tonight”, Harry nods while they drive to Berlin, at 12:32. “Love Missile F1-11” by Sigue Sigue Sputnik playing on the radio.<br/>
<br/>
Sarah turns around. “Are you ok? Did something happen?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yep. Won’t talk about it.”<br/>
<br/>
Mitch uses his nasal tone. “But Harry, you have to open up in order to <em>heeal</em>”<br/>
<br/>
“Shut it”, she hits him on his arm while he drives. “Harry dearest is in a crisis right now.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m serious. I’m going to find someone handsome and then I’ll make out with him. Casual enough.”<br/>
<br/>
She chuckles. “Harry, you don’t do casual.”<br/>
<br/>
Of course he doesn’t. That’s why he’s going to try.<br/>
<br/>
When they get there, he can hear Gary Numan playing on the first floor. The cashier, whose name is Stella, gives them a nod as a greeting and lets them in for a generous tip. It’s a deal they have, so they get in for less and the money goes straight to her. It works perfectly.<br/>
There are less people than last Friday, but the place gets full at 1. It’s better to be early if they want to dance at the right spot. It’s close to the bathrooms. They say hi to other people, which is not that different from other nights.<br/>
<br/>
The fundamental difference is that now Harry is willing to make out with someone, instead of ignoring their stares.<br/>
<br/>
He catches a boy looking at him from the other side of the floor, as they dance to Depeche Mode’s “Personal Jesus”. He’s good-looking, dresses well. He has a weird smile, though.<br/>
<br/>
He slowly starts to get close to them. He’s not alone, so his group comes with him.<br/>
He tells him his name, but Harry doesn’t get to listen to it. They all start dancing as he feels Sarah’s stare. A cheeky one.<br/>
The boy stands right in front of him and Harry sees him with blue lights on his features. He looks a little bit like a 1950’s British version of Steve McQueen. Seems like an accurate description.<br/>
When INXS’ “New Sensation” starts to play he gets a little closer, his eyes never leaving his. Harry feels nervous, he has never kissed another boy before. He has fantasized about it, of course.<br/>
“Steve” grabs his shirt to pull him closer. He’s a bit taller than him, which is weird since Harry’s usually the taller one.<br/>
<br/>
He looks to the side and sees Mitch and Sarah smirking. “Steve” tells him something he doesn’t even bother to understand. It might be a little rude, but like, seriously. They’re on a club. It’s not the right place to make conversation.<br/>
<br/>
“Steve” pulls him even closer. He grins, trying to be flirty, and Harry can’t help but to think of Louis and his sweet smile. A smile he was terribly fond and used to enjoy. They were dancing right here not a long time ago. It feels like forever.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you ok, love?” He shouts near his ear. Harry nods, pursing his lips. He grins again. “You’re adorable!”<br/>
<br/>
Harry brings himself to smile back. Obviously.<br/>
<br/>
“You have some lovely dimples.” He gets close and kisses his cheek. <em>Fuck. This is it</em>. This is where he kisses him, and he will kiss him back. <em>He will kiss him back.</em><br/>
“Steve” kisses his other cheek and Harry closes his eyes, getting lost into the touch and Depeche Mode again. His lips feel warm again his skin, even though the ambient itself is hot enough. He focuses on Dave Gahan’s voice, it fits the moment. He kisses his jaw as he grabs him by his waist, their chests clashing against each other. Harry leans his head back, as he opens his eyes and glances the roof. The lights and smoke make him forget about his whereabouts for a moment, while “Steve” now kisses his neck, his nose brushing against it softly. Harry sighs. He likes it a lot.<br/>
<br/>
He holds his face and kisses him on the lips. A warm, strong kiss. Harry thinks it feels way better than the other kisses he has received, but definitely there’s something missing. When he opens his mouth, the touch gets severely intense. “Honey, Honey” by Abba starts playing and Harry giggles. “Steve” laughs too. Harry is certain he doesn’t know why he’s laughing.<br/>
<br/>
The song makes the moment feel amazingly awkward.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
They snogged a couple more times. “Steve” tried to take him to the bathroom, “for privacy”. He knows deeply in his heart what that privacy is meant for, and he’s just not ready. They watch the show –there’s a show at 4, it mostly varies. Tonight is the turn of a Drag Queen dancing and lip-synching “I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do” while playing with fabrics and dripping wine on her body—with their arms intertwined, and Harry imagines himself with a boyfriend.<br/>
He would be such a fun boyfriend to be around. Probably not to “Steve”, of course.<br/>
<br/>
“Want to go back to my place?” He holds his hand as they leave Berlin. It’s 5:30.<br/>
<br/>
“Nah, I’m going back to mine.”<br/>
<br/>
“Invite me then.”<br/>
<br/>
Sarah chuckles.<br/>
<br/>
“I can’t. My mum doesn’t really appreciate strangers sleeping on her sofa.”<br/>
<br/>
His face loses his drunken gaze. He frowns. “Wait. How old are you?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry kisses his cheek and leaves.<br/>
When they drive back, the streets are completely empty. The sky has a light blue-ish color from the sun, slowly coming out. He decides to sleep a little ‘til he gets home. Naturally, he told Gemma about that. Harry is deeply thankful his family is not strict when it comes to staying out too late, obviously under the condition he’s back early.<br/>
<br/>
Mitch drops him at his flat and waves goodbye; Sarah already sleeping on the passenger seat. The morning feels too cold for his taste, his windbreaker is quite thin for the weather.<br/>
While he waits for the elevator –his eyes and mind begging him to go to bed before he passes out of lack of sleep right there– he hears someone.<br/>
<br/>
“Please, hold it!”<br/>
<br/>
The elevator opens and Harry puts his foot on the door. A woman walks in with a thousand paper bags. He doesn’t know how she manages to do that. She’s wearing a uniform which Harry can’t recognize immediately, and she has a tired face. Very tired face. She has a warm presence, nonetheless.<br/>
<br/>
“Can I help you with the bags?”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, honey, of course! That’d be lovely, thank you.”<br/>
<br/>
They distribute the bags carefully, and Harry’s actually amazed of how strong she is because they’re really heavy. It looks like she’s coming back from work, hence the tired eyes. Eyes that probably haven’t slept in hours, just like him.<br/>
<br/>
“Floor?”<br/>
<br/>
“8<sup>th</sup>, dear.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Oh, shit.</em><br/>
<br/>
She leans her head to the mirror of the elevator and closes her eyes for a minute. The “ding” apparently wakes her up.<br/>
“It’s ok love, I can carry them.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, please, let me help you. It’s alright.”<br/>
<br/>
She smiles in response and they walk to what looks like Louis’ door.<br/>
Of fucking course. Where else.<br/>
<br/>
“Everyone is sleeping inside so let’s get in quietly”, she whispers.<br/>
Louis’ house is different from Harry’s, even thought the flats are distributed similarly. They have three rooms, two bathrooms and a kitchen next to the living room, which has a little balcony with view to other buildings. Their curtains are completely closed so the house looks darker, it’s a bit messy and the house smells like vanilla and coffee.<br/>
<br/>
Someone is sitting on the kitchen table.<br/>
<br/>
“For Christ sakes, Lottie. Why are you up so early?”<br/>
<br/>
“Morning run, I told you yesterday.” She’s eating cereal and milk, her blond hair in a messy bun. “Hey, I know you.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Please, please, please don’t.<br/>
<br/>
</em></p><p>“You’re Harry. Gemma’s brother.”<br/>
<br/>
Her accent is as strong as Louis’. Harry’s praying Louis is not home or at least that he’s having some deep sleep right now.<br/>
He drops the bags on the table and nods, not making eye-contact. “Hey.”<br/>
<br/>
“You’re Harry? Oh, I’m sorry love, I didn’t recognize you before!” She hugs him completely out of the blue. “Your mum has told me so much about you, you’re such a gentleman.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s ok, really. I’m glad I helped.”<br/>
<br/>
“Louis is not home, by the way.” Lottie looks at him, while eating from her plate. <em>What is that supposed to mean?<br/>
</em><br/>
“Alright. Ok, I’m…”<br/>
<br/>
“No, no. Of course. Thank you so much for the help!” Her smile is naturally charming.<br/>
She walks him to the door as she asks him to say hi to his mum for her. It’s a strange feeling, being at Louis house without him. Or his passive-aggressive dad. Shit. Lottie is probably going to tell Louis he was at his house. Where is he anyway? They probably had some party or maybe he’s staying at Eleanor’s. Fuck it. He definitely has to work on taking Louis out of his life.<br/>
<br/>
Which is impossible, by the way.<br/>
<br/>
Since that weird day, Harry’s head has been spinning into questions, head-scenarios, memories, more questions and stuck into songs about heartbreaks, even he doesn’t necessarily feel heartbroken. Steve’s kiss was something he forgot about like two days after it happened, not because it wasn’t good but because it wasn’t a especial one. At all. He felt good, clearly, but he felt just as much as he feels going to rollercoasters.<br/>
<br/>
And he doesn’t like them that much.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
He spent the rest of April avoiding Niall and his group on purpose, they even stopped chatting on their breaks during rehearsals. Liam occasionally says hi on the hallway and Harry greets him back, but that’s it. He’s been wanting to call Niall ever since what happened on the locker’s room, but the mere thought of him explaining what’s wrong feels heavy on his heart.<br/>
Niall could understand, he always does.<br/>
But Harry has slightly realized their friendship is based on constant understanding. And Niall doesn’t need to be in the middle.<br/>
<br/>
In the middle of what you may ask.<br/>
Well, Louis and him.<br/>
Because he’s his friend now.<br/>
<br/>
And Harry can’t help but to feel a little jealous.<br/>
<br/>
The photo and the note lay on his bed, staring back at him.<br/>
Tears of frustration run down his cheeks as the sun comes down by his window.<br/>
<br/>
Because even if he acted like a fucking wanker and most of the time he ignores his existence, Harry still misses him.<br/>
Very much.<br/>
So much the memory of him being nice feels like a dream.<br/>
A dream that will haunt him forever, probably.<br/>
<br/>
Sometimes he reminds himself all the reasons to not like him anymore, to stop waiting for him. He has made noticeably clear his opinion on him. It still doesn’t work.<br/>
<br/>
He called to his phone while drunk once, but no one picked it up. He didn’t leave a message. He stepped in front of his door on a Wednesday. He didn’t knock. He wrote him four songs and a poem. They’re hiding under his bed.<br/>
<br/>
“Love”, by John Lennon comes from his old radio.<br/>
Louis’ eyes stuck in time.<br/>
<br/>
<strong><em>“(…) to tell you how special you are. But you already know that.”</em></strong><em><br/>
<br/>
</em>Harry doesn’t feel special, at all.<br/>
<br/>
But he made him feel like it. <br/>
For a while.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. "Fade Into You"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>"all the bad dreams that you hide,</i>
  <br/>
  <i>show me yours</i>
  <br/>
  <i>and i'll show you mine"</i>
</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A little heads up: There's a small mention of suicide in this chapter, so please read with caution. Thank you! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“He’s been locked in his room since he got from school, Niall. It’s Sunday. Mum cooked his favorite plate today and he barely ate it. We asked if he was sick and he said he didn’t know. He’s not talking to us. I know you two haven’t talked a lot lately, but do you have an idea why he could be so… sad?”<em><br/>
<br/>
</em>Gemma took the telephone to her room, so Harry won’t hear her. She promised herself, as her big sister, that she wouldn’t intrude on his life; naturally, since he has been in bed all weekend, some intervention has to be made. She called Niall because that’s the only friend she knows besides Louis. She’s not that clueless, though. She noticed how Louis stopped showing in their house, and how Harry’s eyes look now more tired and unmotivated. Of course she can’t call him instead.<br/>
<br/>
<em>“What he has been listening to?”</em><br/>
<em><br/>
</em>“Er… I don’t know. The Smiths? Radiohead? Mazzy Star?”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Oh, shit… It’s serious.”<br/>
<br/>
</em>“I really don’t know what to tell you about that. I’m genuinely worried.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Calm down, can I come over?”<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Obviously.”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
Niall knows deeply in his heart how wrong is to call while driving, but the situation merits it. He was going to hang out with Jane, Liam and Louis on his place but now he has to cancel to visit a mopey Harry, whom he has not spoken to a lot recently.<br/>
He decided to give him his space to meet and hang out with new people. Inside he has always known how different they are, and they’ve always managed to keep those differences apart. Now that he has a girlfriend, it’s been more difficult and he knows well Harry deserves (and needs) attention. Something he can’t personally give him that often right now, especially since Louis doesn’t like him that much. The whole situation is awkward, but if Harry doesn’t want to talk about it, it’s alright.  <br/>
It doesn’t mean he doesn’t love him, though. He’s willing to ditch his friends 30 minutes before just because Harry needs him.<br/>
And knowing that Harry would do exactly the same thing for him deeply recomforts him.<br/>
<br/>
He calls Liam and Jane; he tells them a friend of him needs him today so he can’t hang out. They take it rather good. He’s about to call Louis but then he remembers he literally lives in the building, so he decides to visit him before going to Harry’s.<br/>
<br/>
Of course, he doesn’t know exactly which flat is his. So the plan’s ruined.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey mate.” Niall calls him from the entrance. “Where you at?”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“I’m in the elevator, I’ll probably be a little late since I couldn’t find my shoe. My room’s a mess.”<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Right. About that…”<br/>
<br/>
The elevator opens, and Louis sees him. He smiles as he takes his phone down.<br/>
<br/>
“You came to pick me up? That’s so considerate of you.”<br/>
<br/>
“I actually have to cancel.” Niall scrunches his nose.<br/>
<br/>
He stops walking. “And you drove all the way here to tell me that?”<br/>
<br/>
“No, I… I came to visit Harry.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis’ face drops. Niall probably shouldn’t have told him about it. Whatever. He hates the idea of lying to his friends and intruding on a situation that doesn’t even concern him.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh. Why?”<br/>
<br/>
“Because he’s my friend.” Niall is a bit scared. Angry Louis scares him. “And he needs one right now, so…”<br/>
<br/>
He swallows. “Alright, let’s go.”<br/>
<br/>
“Where?” Niall tilts his head.<br/>
<br/>
“To the elevator, I’m not taking the stairs.” He scoffs.<br/>
<br/>
Niall feels how Louis’ entire energy has changed, he looks tense and hasn’t said another word. He’s the one who usually starts the small talk.<br/>
When he’s on his floor about to leave, he sighs.</p><p>“Is he ok?” He doesn’t look at him.<br/>
<br/>
“I guess?” Niall turns his face. “Gemma didn’t tell me much, just that he was in bed being all mopey.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis nods and leaves without saying goodbye.<br/>
<br/>
° ° °<br/>
<br/>
When he’s outside Harry’s door, he can hear him listening to some Iggy Pop song.<br/>
<br/>
“Let me know if he needs anything, ok? And ask him if he wants some curly fries, I can prepare some.”<br/>
<br/>
“Thank you, Gemma. Of course.”<br/>
<br/>
She goes to her room and Niall knocks Harry’s door.<br/>
No one answers.<br/>
He goes in, anyway.<br/>
<br/>
Harry is laying on his bed with his legs stretched leaning to the wall, looking at the roof. His arms completely open. He looks at Niall and frowns.<br/>
“Hey, stranger.”<br/>
<br/>
The song’s catchy, though.<br/>
<br/>
“Who died, Harry?”<br/>
<br/>
He chuckles. “Me. A little. On the inside.”<br/>
<br/>
Niall takes a glance to his bed and sees Louis’ picture. “You’re so dramatic.” He sits next to him, as he starts caressing Harry’s head. “Come on. Talk to me.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry sighs. “I’m deeply deprived of physical contact.”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t change the subject.”<br/>
<br/>
“Did you know Ian Curtis killed himself listening to this album?”<br/>
<br/>
Niall takes his hand out of his hair. “Jesus.”<br/>
<br/>
He sits, crossing his legs. “Sarah and Mitch are graduating soon.”<br/>
<br/>
“Harry, that’s by the end of June.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know. And this week they’re out of town to celebrate… something. I mean, I knew about it last month, but I wasn’t mentally prepared. I don’t want to go to school.”<br/>
<br/>
“But you can’t miss an entire week of school because Mitch and Sarah won’t be there.”<br/>
<br/>
“I can fake sick.”<br/>
<br/>
“You’re not faking sick. Also, you can always hang out with me!”<br/>
<br/>
Harry looks at his feet. “But your group doesn’t like me.”<br/>
<br/>
Niall rolls his eyes. “They do! Liam likes you; he’s always asking about you. Jane tells me to invite you to our parties all the time.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry chuckles. “Niall, that’s like two people.”<br/>
<br/>
“And me. Three’s a crowd.” He smiles and puts a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “That was why you were sad? Because you didn’t have someone to hang out at school?”<br/>
Harry glances the photo, grabs it and puts it under his pillow. “Nope. But it doesn’t matter.”<br/>
<br/>
“Your sister was freaking out.”<br/>
<br/>
“She called you?”<br/>
<br/>
“Of course. You never ask for help when you’re supposed to.” Harry presses his lips. “Hey, I know we haven’t talked lately. I figured you needed space, so I just let you be. That doesn’t mean I’m not a call away.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry hugs him. He’s always compared Niall’s hugs to have a cuppa chamomile tea when you’re sick. It just makes everything better.<br/>
They hang out ‘til night; Gemma joins them, and they watch some silly tv show Niall watches every Sunday. He gets heavily bullied for it, obviously. The Styles have zero chill when it comes to taste.<br/>
Niall leaves by 9.<br/>
<br/>
“I was this close to call Louis, but you barely talk about him now.” Gemma talks while she’s washing the dishes.<br/>
<br/>
“We’re not friends anymore.” Harry sits on the kitchen table. He knows his mum wouldn’t appreciate that.<br/>
<br/>
“I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but I know something.”<br/>
<br/>
His heart skips a beat. “Speak.”<br/>
<br/>
“I talked to Lottie and she heard him and his girlfriend talking about you.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Wha-<br/>
<br/>
</em>“And apparently she doesn’t like you that much.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry closes his eyes and sighs. “See? That’s why we don’t leave the room.”<br/>
<br/>
“Stop being so dramatic, Harry. Naturally, there will be people that won’t like you. And it’s ok. You’re too special for them and they don’t even see that.”<br/>
<br/>
Gemma doesn’t really know why she doesn’t like him. And to be fair, Harry doesn’t either. He didn’t talk to Eleanor that much for her to conclude she didn’t like him that soon. Besides, it’s not like Louis and him were <em>that </em>obvious. Sometimes they would hug, and have subtle touches, and spend like three days a week together, and have too many inside jokes, but that doesn’t mean anything specific. Right?</p><p><br/>
° ° °<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Harry bikes to school listening to The Cure’s “The Head on the Door”.<br/>
It’s not like he was actually depressed, but he was feeling a bit melancholic. And anxious. It’s going to be weird to have school without Mitch and Sarah after June. They discussed it and talked about visiting him, and that he can always visit them in London. Mitch’s dad lives there, so they have a nice big house where he has a place to stay.<br/>
His dad lives in London too, but that’s another story.<br/>
Now he’s feeling a little better. He had a little breakdown over Louis too, but now he’s a new man. He has to let him go, or at least, he can fake it ‘til he makes it. Niall’s presence was comforting enough to make him forget a little bit about his messy feelings.<br/>
<br/>
When he gets there and meets with Niall, they go to the cafeteria and Liam is sitting there with Louis.<br/>
And another guy Harry recognizes almost immediately.<br/>
<br/>
Holy-Jesus-fucking-Christ.<br/>
<br/>
He stops almost on his tracks.<br/>
<br/>
“Niall? Who’s that?”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s Roger, I think. He’s been working with the team and the coach to improve… something. I don’t know. Football related. He’s doing his practice as a PE teacher, if I’m not wrong.”<br/>
<br/>
Roger.<br/>
Of fucking course.<br/>
Harry thinks “Steve” suited him better.<br/>
<br/>
“Niall, I have to go.”<br/>
<br/>
“Come on, mate. Ignore Louis, it’s fine.”<br/>
<br/>
“No, Niall.” Harry looks at him, pure panic on his eyes. “I <em>really</em> have to go. I promise I’ll explain later.”<br/>
<br/>
“Niall!”<br/>
<br/>
Liam calls them from their table.<br/>
<br/>
<em>For fuck sakes, Liam.<br/>
<br/>
</em></p><p>“Steve” –apparently now Roger—looks at them and Harry can see how his face slowly starts to get pale. He tells them something, grabs his stuff and leaves barely without falling. Harry gets it. He didn’t realize how big was the age difference.<br/>
Because of all places, of all schools, the first man he has ever kissed is doing his practice there. On his school.<br/>
Sarah and Mitch are going to love this.<br/>
<br/>
Louis usually rolled his eyes when Harry arrived. Today, it’s absolutely nothing.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s always nice to see you, H.” He nods, smiley.<br/>
<br/>
“Was that Roger?” Niall sits with them so logically Harry does it too.<br/>
<br/>
“Yep. We have training today because we have an important match on Sunday. To be honest with you, I’m not sure if extensive training will make us magically better at it overnight, but it’s worth the shot, right?”<br/>
<br/>
Liam and Niall start talking while Louis and Harry look at the table, in silence. Harry’s heart still beats fast with his presence. It’s been a while since they were close, at least, sitting on the space.<br/>
<br/>
“But Ella’s birthday is on Friday, right?” Niall asks. Louis nods. “Are you going?”<br/>
<br/>
“El is going, so…”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Right.</em><br/>
<br/>
“Uhm, boys, I’m… I’m going to class, if that’s alright.”<br/>
<br/>
“Sure. No problem. Sit with us at dinner!”<br/>
<br/>
“Will do.” Harry smiles at Liam. Louis ignores him completely. Again.<br/>
<br/>
Harry’s week with Niall is something not as stressful as he thought it could be.<br/>
All he did was basically hear their conversations, look at Louis hands, miss Sarah and Mitch, avoid bumping into Roger, read to Maya Angelou’s “I know why the caged bird sings”, write silly poems about old couples sharing seats on the bus, sleeping in class but not failing once, watching music videos on MTV –he watched this weird Sonic Youth video of Macaulay Culkin making out with his wife and a ballerina spinning, directed by Harmony Korine. Weird shit. Hot, though–, practice with Niall and try some new freshly-composed songs and watch Louis’ picture before going to sleep.<br/>
<br/>
<em>“You’re kidding. You have to be joking.”<br/>
<br/>
</em>“I’m not. You should’ve seen his face.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Holy shit. I would’ve paid a million pounds to see his face.” </em>Sarah giggles. <em>“Love, you’re not going to believe this. The man who snogged Harry in Berlin is doing his practice at St. Mary’s.”<br/>
<br/>
</em>And the loudest cackle in the world is heard.<br/>
“Ok. It’s not funny anymore.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“You have to admit it is. Did you tell your friends? Now you can brag you actually did it with a teacher.” </em>She keeps laughing.<br/>
<br/>
Harry didn’t tell Niall. Obviously.<br/>
This is the second Friday he spends at home. In almost three months.<br/>
Which is nice, by the way.<br/>
<br/>
He plans a movie night with his mum. They watch Pretty Woman while eating biscuits and ice cream, and he thinks it’s funny how his mum and himself fall in love a little with Richard Gere. It’s unavoidable. His smile is charming.<br/>
He doesn’t like how they portrait Julia Robert’s character. <em>Maybe I could write an essay on it.</em><br/>
<br/>
Harry decides to meditate before going to bed, puts an old meditation talk through he bought in a flea market last year, which is in French. Harry doesn’t even speak French, besides greetings. Doesn’t matter. It relaxes him. He’s been having an awful sleep schedule lately so maybe this is his chance to get it right again.<br/>
<br/>
And obviously he’s so fucking wrong.<br/>
<br/>
His phone starts ringing at 3:54 am.<br/>
Harry hears it but he’s not picking.<br/>
Because no one calls him, ever.<br/>
<br/>
His phone starts ringing again at 4:01 am.<br/>
He seriously needs to sleep right now.<br/>
<br/>
His phone starts ringing again at…<br/>
<br/>
“What?” He doesn’t even open his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you home?”<br/>
<br/>
“Who’s this?”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t be silly. Are you home?”<br/>
<br/>
“Niall?”<br/>
<br/>
“Of course it’s me. Are you-“<br/>
<br/>
“Yep. I’m here. I’m sleeping.”<br/>
<br/>
“I need your help. I know you’re probably going to kill me right now, but I seriously need your help.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sleeping right now.”<br/>
<br/>
“You’re not. Please.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry opens his eyes. He gets a little grumpy when people wake him up. His voice is raspy and deep. “Do you need to hide a body?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes and no.”<br/>
<br/>
His eyes widen. “What do you mean with yes and no?”<br/>
<br/>
“Can you come down the parking lot? Please?”<br/>
<br/>
He sighs. “My parking lot?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yep.”<br/>
<br/>
“I swear, Niall, if I get killed for drugs I’m-“<br/>
<br/>
“Just come down! And bring a jumper!”<br/>
<br/>
He puts on some pajama pants and his blue jumper. He grabs an old cardigan. He tries to hear if Gemma or his mum are awake to let them know he’s going downstairs, you know, in case he has to hide a body. They’re all sleeping.<br/>
He grabs his keys and takes the elevator.<br/>
<br/>
He sees Niall waving when he gets there.<br/>
<br/>
“What the fuck, Niall. It’s 4 am.” Harry scratches his head. His eyes still not getting used to the light.<br/>
<br/>
“I know you’re going to hate me probably for the rest of your-“<br/>
<br/>
“You already said that and I’m already hatin’ you. Wait.” He frowns. “You’re drinking, Niall.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes. That’s exactly why I need your help.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry hears someone on Niall’s car.<br/>
<br/>
“I… We need a place to crash until tomorrow.”<br/>
<br/>
“We?”<br/>
<br/>
He opens the door.<br/>
Louis is half sleeping inside.<br/>
<br/>
“He got massively wasted and he wanted to go home. No one could bring him up here and he insisted on going back. I was the only one not-that drunk so I drove him here, but I don’t know where he lives exactly. He told me you knew so I called you but now he reminded me he forgot his bag at Ella’s. With his keys. And his jumper.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>You have to be fucking joking. </em><br/>
<br/>
“Niall…”<br/>
<br/>
“I know. I promise I’ll bring you Milky Ways all week.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry closes his eyes. This is fantastic.<br/>
<br/>
“Alright. You’re sleeping with me and Louis is sleeping on the sofa.”<br/>
<br/>
“Perfect. Now let’s see if we can wake him up.”<br/>
<br/>
“Can we just leave him here?”<br/>
<br/>
They grab Louis’ ankles, and he doesn’t even notice it. Harry glances a tattoo on his skin, and it looks fresh. It’s a triangle. Whatever. He moves a little and starts waking up.<br/>
His eyes are sleepy, and he can barely stand still.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey, curly.” His voice is sweet, not as harsh as usual. Harry’s heart starts beating fast, again. He’ll probably give him a heart attack one day. “You’re here.”<br/>
<br/>
When he’s completely out of the car, his balance is completely messed up. He’s very drunk. They drag him to the elevator.<br/>
<br/>
“Mmh.” Louis complains with his eyes closed. “M’cold.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry looks at Niall and he’s completely lost on his drunken thoughts. He puts his cardigan around Louis’ shoulders.<br/>
He looks at him and smiles.<br/>
<br/>
“Thank you, love.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry’s losing his shit right now.<br/>
<br/>
They get outside Harry’s door.<br/>
“We’re going directly into my room without making any noise because I don’t want my mum to be bothered by your irresponsibility. Got it?” He whispers.<br/>
<br/>
They assent.<br/>
 <br/>
When they’re in his room, Louis smiles and crashes into his bed right away.<br/>
“Mmh. I missed this smell.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry tries to pull him out. “No, no. You’re going to the sofa.”<br/>
<br/>
He frowns. “Come on, don’t be a wanker.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>You’re lucky I didn’t let you sleep on the car.<br/>
</em><br/>
“I can sleep on the sofa, it’s fine by me.”<br/>
<br/>
“No, Niall. You don’t get it. It’s my bed. I’m not sleeping with him. I’m not sleeping on the floor. He has to go to the sofa.”<br/>
<br/>
Niall rolls his eyes. “Chill out. I’m leaving. Can I grab a cup-“<br/>
<br/>
“Do whatever the fuck you want. I’m exhausted. Please don’t make any noise.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry is really pissed off right now. Very pissed off.<br/>
Louis treats him like shit and the second he’s too wasted to get home he decides to sleep on his bed.<br/>
His bed.<br/>
Louis.<br/>
<em>Oh my fucking god. </em><br/>
<br/>
“Can you help me with my sneakers?” His eyes are closed.<br/>
<br/>
Harry is standing next to the door. “Untie them yourself.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m too tired. Please. I’ll pay you.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry starts to untie his shoes and leaves them on the floor, near his desk. “You’re such a dickhead.”  <br/>
<br/>
“I know. Trousers, please.”<br/>
<br/>
“No, you’re keeping them. I’m not-“<br/>
Louis starts unbuttoning. This is a literal nightmare. Harry grabs his hands.<br/>
“Louis, you’re in my bed. I’m not sleeping with you if you don’t wear your clothes.”<br/>
<br/>
“How are we supposed to snog then?” His eyes are still closed.<br/>
<br/>
What. The. Fuck.<br/>
<br/>
“Joking. Pardon me. I didn’t mean it.” He chuckles. Of course he didn’t. “Can you please at least lend me some pajamas? I hate sleeping on this.”<br/>
<br/>
That’s something he can do.<br/>
He takes out his red stripped pajama pants and leaves them next to him.<br/>
“Change. I’ll turn around.”<br/>
<br/>
“You don’t really have to.”<br/>
<br/>
“Can you stop it?”<br/>
<br/>
He stands up, barely, and puts his trousers down. He’s wearing black boxers, and even though Harry deeply hates to admit it, he has a cute bum. He takes off his shirt and leaves it on Harry’s desk, above his old radio.<br/>
Louis is half naked on Harry’s room.<br/>
Harry’s panicking. Naturally.<br/>
<br/>
“Clothes, Louis.”<br/>
<br/>
He nods in silence, almost in a trance. He puts his pants up.<br/>
<br/>
“Can I stay like this?”<br/>
<br/>
“No. Please use this shirt.” Harry gives him his black “Fleetwood Mac” shirt. It’s a little big for him.<br/>
Louis throws himself on the bed again.<br/>
<br/>
“C’mere.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sleeping on the floor. Thank you very much.”<br/>
<br/>
He scowls. “You’re not sleeping on the floor. Come.”<br/>
<br/>
He shakes his head. “Please. I’m-”<br/>
<br/>
Louis sits on his bed. “Don’t you think I’m not aware of how I’ve been a massive jerk with you. I know you probably hate me right now, but you’re not sleeping on the floor. Stop it.”<br/>
He grabs his hand and pulls him into the bed. He wants to cry, and he doesn’t know if it’s because the lack of sleep or the fact that he really can’t escape him. All of his attempts have been awfully wronged, and now that he was finally feeling a little better, he irrupts on his life again. Well, his house in this case.</p><p>They’re both staring at the ceiling.<br/>
<br/>
“So you know.”<br/>
<br/>
“What?”<br/>
<br/>
“That you’ve been a massive jerk.”<br/>
<br/>
He sighs. “Yeah. I know.”<br/>
<br/>
“And you’re choosing to be.”<br/>
<br/>
He closes his eyes. “No. I’m not.”<br/>
Harry turns around.<br/>
<br/>
“What is that supposed to mean?” He doesn’t respond. Harry frowns. “Tell me why you despise me so much, then.”<br/>
<br/>
“I can’t have this conversation right now. I’m sobering up and I’d rather much sleep right now.”<br/>
<br/>
He sits again. “Alright. I’m sleeping on the floor.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis opens his eyes and holds his hand.<br/>
<br/>
“Harry, I told you everything you needed to know. Everything. I can’t be your friend because I don’t want to be your friend.”<br/>
<em>Ouch.</em><br/>
<br/>
“You didn’t say that.”<br/>
<br/>
He sits too. “I said I wanted you, didn’t I?”<br/>
<br/>
They’re face to face, looking into each other’s eyes. Harry has daydreamed about Louis’ eyes so much he has them tattooed on his mind. Now, they look tired and sad. He has always compared them to the sea: the first day they met, it was like the pacific ocean. Blue and clear. The sunlight playing with its colors. Full of life.<br/>
Now it looks like a storm hit them.<br/>
It’s a very dark blue. A bit lost there, on the waves and clouds.<br/>
<br/>
Louis swallows and moves his hand, hesitant. He touches his cheek, subtly caressing it with his thumb. The touch makes Harry shiver.<br/>
<br/>
“I miss this face."<br/>
<br/>
Harry sighs, closes his eyes and decides to put his hand on Louis’, against his skin. His hands are warm. Soft like polar fleece. He moves his face a little bit to kiss his palm, and then moves Louis’ hand to kiss the tip of his thumb. A small kiss. He looks hypnotized by Harry’s movements and eyes, never leaving his. Louis touches Harry’s lips, separating them gently, now his eyes looking at them. Every movement calculated with care. He moves his hand to the back of his neck, slowly running into his jaw. Harry hasn’t shaved since Monday so he’s hoping it doesn’t feel itchy. He leans on his hand.<br/>
“You hurt me. I wanted you too, and you hurt me. This hurts.” Harry whispers.<br/>
<br/>
Louis looks even more sad. He leans and hugs him. It’s like they’re puzzle pieces, since they fit amazingly well. Harry buries his nose on his neck and feels the familiar scent, mixed with a little of his own smell coming from his shirt.<br/>
They’re hugging again after almost 93 days.<br/>
And it’s a lot.<br/>
He feels Louis’ breathing on his shoulder.<br/>
“I know I could say how sorry I am like a million times and it’d still not be enough.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yep.”<br/>
<br/>
“There’s… so much I’d have to tell you but-“<br/>
<br/>
“Please don’t. Not right now. Don’t ruin the moment.”<br/>
Louis giggles a little.<br/>
<br/>
“You said ‘wanted’.”<br/>
<br/>
“So?”<br/>
<br/>
“You don’t want me anymore?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry sighs and presses a little kiss on Louis’ neck. He runs his lips to another spot and kisses him there again. He waits for a reaction. Louis opens his mouth and exhales.<br/>
“Don’t stop.” He whispers, incredibly low. Almost audible.<br/>
<br/>
And Harry feels those words deep on his tummy.<br/>
<br/>
He kisses his neck again, now taking his time, as he goes down to his collarbone. He presses three more kisses and feels Louis’ breathing getting heavier. He swallows. Louis’ hands move to his waist and pull him closer, their chest touching as Harry keeps kissing him all over his shoulder. Four more kisses, each slower than the other. He’s taking his time.<br/>
Louis’ fingers run all through Harry’s back, which causes him goosebumps, as they go to the edge of his jumper and lift it up. He starts touching his skin. Harry shivers, and now his breathing gets heavy as well. It’s a haunting touch.<br/>
<br/>
Harry stops and looks at Louis. His mouth is slightly open, short of breath.<br/>
<br/>
“Lou.”<br/>
<br/>
He closes his eyes. “I know, I know.”<br/>
<br/>
It’s not like anyone’s gonna enter his room right now, anyway. His heart is beating incredibly fast. His hands are shaking.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t know what we’re doing.” He whispers back. “I don’t know where we’re standing. I know you said sorry, but you’re drunk. What if tomorrow you decide to hate me again. To ignore me.” Harry looks at him, the tip of their noses almost touching.<br/>
<br/>
“I think I’ve been clear enough about how I feel about you, Harry.”<br/>
<br/>
“No, you haven’t. Last time you-“<br/>
<br/>
“I know.”<br/>
<br/>
“Tell me now, then.”<br/>
Harry kisses his cheek.<br/>
<br/>
“Tell me how you feel.”<br/>
He kisses his other cheek.<br/>
<br/>
“Tell me how you really feel.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis’ jaw clenches. His soft expression now seems troubled. He doesn’t say anything.<br/>
Harry looks at him, waiting, impatiently. Of course he’s not going to talk. Did he scare him again?<br/>
<em>Fuck. </em><br/>
<br/>
“I have a girlfriend.” Harry’s about to interrupt him. “Before you say, ‘I know’, it’s not that simple.<br/>
I know I’ve been the one who has been overly dramatic about it, but you don’t know anything, really. Anything at all. Remember my father? The grumpy man who yelled at me in front of you because I got home like 30 minutes late?”<br/>
<br/>
He does, in fact, remembers him.<br/>
<br/>
“He’s mean, Harry.” He presses his lips, his eyes looking at his hands. “He’s… And El, she knows. She knows he’s a bad person.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry is slowly connecting the dots.<br/>
<br/>
“If… If he knows.” He stares back to his eyes. “If he finds out, I…”<br/>
Harry shushes him and hugs him again. That’s enough information and he doesn’t want Louis reliving trauma unnecessarily.<br/>
<br/>
“I was too obvious. That’s why I needed to push you away.” His voice breaks a little.<br/>
<br/>
<em>He sounds so vulnerable. So small.</em><br/>
<em>Shit.</em><br/>
Harry glances his clock which marks 5:11. Louis looks awfully tired. So is he.<br/>
<br/>
“Look at me.” Harry breaks the hug and touches his chin. “We’ll figure this out, alright? Not right now, but eventually. Tomorrow. Next week. Who knows. We’ll find a way. We don’t have to discuss it yet.”<br/>
<br/>
He nods, apparently holding back tears, and exhales. “Can we cuddle?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry smiles. “Mhm. Come on, let’s get into the covers.”<br/>
<br/>
He turns off the lamp and now the room is almost completely dark, if it wasn’t from the lights coming from outside. He doesn’t know how to feel about Louis, or if he has forgiven him yet. All he knows right now is that he needs to sleep and sort it out in the morning, with his head in order.<br/>
Because this is what they need to do right now. Just cuddle.<br/>
Harry chooses the big spoon even though he likes being the little spoon, only because Louis needs it.<br/>
<br/>
“Do you really think I’m pretentious?”<br/>
<br/>
He giggles. “Like I said, massive jerk. I’m sorry.”<br/>
<br/>
“But do you?”<br/>
<br/>
Louis turns around and kisses Harry’s forehead.<br/>
“A little bit.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry giggles too. “Please don’t be mean to me in the morning.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis turns around, holds Harry’s hand and puts it around his waist. “I promise, only if you make me a cuppa.”<br/>
<br/>
And just like that, Harry falls asleep with the warmth of Louis’ body close to him.<br/>
And it’s heavenly.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
He hears his mum’s alarm sound from afar, like usual, at 8 am. He opens his eyes to find himself resting his head on Louis’ chest. He looks up to find him sleeping profoundly. Louis looks younger when he’s sleeping. His eyelashes make small shadows on his cheek. It’s a perfect image.<br/>
He tries to untangle himself from his arms without waking him up and leaves the bed like a ninja.<br/>
When he’s out of his door, he realizes.<br/>
<br/>
Louis Tomlinson is sleeping on his bed.<br/>
<br/>
The same Louis Tomlinson that hated and ignored him.<br/>
He’s sleeping.<br/>
On his bed.<br/>
Harry blinks twice.<br/>
He’s still there.<br/>
The conversation they had yesterday was very real.<br/>
<em>But what does it even mean?<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Harry.”<br/>
<br/>
Shit, Niall.<br/>
<br/>
“Hi mum.” He walks to the living room.<br/>
<br/>
“You should’ve told me you invited Niall to sleep over. When I saw him on the sofa he scared me so much!”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sorry. He needed a place to crash so I let him stay. I wanted to tell you, but you were already sleeping.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s ok, love. He already left.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry scowls. “He did? When?”<br/>
<br/>
“Like an hour ago?”<br/>
<br/>
“What time is it?”<br/>
<br/>
Anne checks her watch. “9:24. I’m actually late so I’m leaving. Be good, alright? If you’re going out tell your sister, and please wash the-“<br/>
<br/>
“Yep. I know.” He walks her to the door. “Love you.”<br/>
<br/>
“Love you too. We’re going out for pizza tonight if you want to join.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’ll let you know.” He hugs her. “Take care.”<br/>
<br/>
Anne hugs him back. She squints her eyes. “New perfume?”<br/>
<br/>
“What?”<br/>
<br/>
“Never mind. Bye, love!”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Holy shit, Louis!</em><br/>
<br/>
Harry runs to the kitchen and prepares an earl grey, unsweetened. Just waiting for the water to boil makes him anxious. Maybe he’s still sleeping. Maybe he will wake up and he won’t remember what they talked about. He probably forgot the kisses too. Harry didn’t kiss kiss him, but those neck kisses were surely quite intense. At least for him.<br/>
The water boils, so he pours it on the cup. He takes it and starts walking to his door. His hands are sweety and the cup is too hot, which makes him struggle taking it without spilling some on the floor. He’s a clumsy mess.<br/>
<br/>
When he gets in, Louis is looking out the window still in bed. He turns around, his eyes studying the situation.<br/>
<br/>
<em>He looks so pretty with my shirt.<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Harry.” He sounds confused. <em>Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He forgot. Louis totally forgot and now he hates me again. Of course. He was drunk. Fuck. And now I just brought him a cup of tea like playing house. Fuck. </em><br/>
<br/>
Louis looks at the cup on his hand.<br/>
“Is it unsweetened?”<br/>
And then he smiles.<br/>
<br/>
And Harry’s body relaxes so much he almost passes out to the floor.<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. "Venus As A Boy"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>"and i've been meaning to tell you</i>
  <br/>
  <i>i think your house is haunted</i>
  <br/>
  <i>you dad is always mad and that must be why</i>
  <br/>
  <i>i think you should come live with me</i>
  <br/>
  <i>and we can be pirates</i>
  <br/>
  <i>then you won't have to cry</i>
  <br/>
  <i>or hide in the closet</i>
  <br/>
  <i>and just like a folk song</i>
  <br/>
  <i>our love will be passed on"</i>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For a Donny boy, Louis is particularly special.<br/>
<br/>
He doesn’t know that, obviously.<br/>
<br/>
But it has always been the way he memorizes the little details, which helps him a lot on giving gifts at birthdays, and the way he always manages to have something to say, a good advice when needed, an honest opinion to give.<br/>
He’s transparent.<br/>
But people are not like him.<br/>
The first time he really noticed was while he was at work, overhearing people’s conversations. It’s not like he had something else to do, anyway, but nothing they said amused him enough. All of their convos felt so fake. So boring.<br/>
And it wasn’t only at work, but everywhere. At the bus, at school, at practice. Even at home. Everyone was constantly talking about other people, other situations that never really involved them. All that he-said-she-said bullshit.<br/>
The only person in the planet, on his opinion, that somehow managed to make gossip interesting is Lottie. She tells him stories about people he doesn’t know about like she’s telling a tale, and there’s always something he learns from every story. <em>Never tell someone if they look bad with certain clothes, never tell a girl that yes, she actually gained a little weight during the summer break, and never, never ever, ask someone about their sexuality publicly.<br/>
<br/>
</em>Because you never know people, and homophobia is still a thing.<br/>
He lives it firsthand with his dad.<br/>
And well, small towns are known for being ambivalent when it comes to acceptance.<br/>
<br/>
So when he heard they were moving to a bigger city, his heart almost exploded with emotion. Every time he traveled to places like London he would picture himself living on a nice flat, playing the guitar all day, going to concerts and clubs and even meeting his soulmate on the cheesiest way, if he happened to have one. They weren’t in Doncaster, certainly.<br/>
<br/>
And it wasn’t Eleanor.<br/>
Definitely wasn’t Eleanor.<br/>
Because somehow she even made tv sound boring.<br/>
It was always what she wanted to buy, what she wanted to wear, what she wanted to eat and stop eating, where she wanted to go, what show she watched yesterday. And the he-said-she-said bullshit too.<br/>
But being with her was ok, like, it gave him something to do, someone to please. And it was Fizzy’s idea.<br/>
<br/>
It all started on May 13<sup>th</sup>, 1998.<br/>
They were having dinner, nothing that far from the usual everyday life. Lottie was talking about how this girl at cheer practice stole one of her choreographies without giving her credit, and she was absolutely pissed about it. Jay tried to make her feel better, so did Fizzy, but dad was completely uninterested. He was watching the telly. Louis deeply hated eating with the telly on, but at least it kept his dad out of their conversations. He’s used to make some inappropriate comments and lame, racist, homophobic jokes.<br/>
And Louis was fed up with it.<br/>
So when he started making fun of a man being interviewed because he “sounded like a pussy”, he couldn’t contain himself.<br/>
<br/>
“Dad. Can you stop it?”<br/>
The loose expression on his dad’s face turned into stone, as his eyes looked deadly angry. He could also see Jay mentally preparing herself for another fight, because that’s what she always does. She prepares herself for this eternal war called living-with-dad.<br/>
As usual, his father started ranting about how there’s nothing that prohibits him from laughing and joking, that humour is subjective, that people don’t care, that Louis is being “overly sensitive, like a little girl”. That those men should be the ones ashamed of themselves, for being themselves.<br/>
<br/>
“You don’t even know if they’re gay.”<br/>
<br/>
And that sentence was enough for his dad to get suspicious.<br/>
Because Louis has had girlfriends before, but no one that he has ever cared enough to introduce them to his family.<br/>
The fights usually died two or three hours later, and it was always Louis and dad, with Jay in the middle, trying to calm things down. The girls quietly went to bed and blasted music to stop hearing the screaming and the shouting. Part of the everyday life.<br/>
<br/>
But this time, his dad didn’t forget about it.<br/>
He looked into every movement, every word, every piece of clothes Louis decided to wear, as if he decided to mentally task himself into it.<br/>
Only motivated by the fear of his son being like “those fags”.<br/>
<br/>
Two weeks after that fight, Louis went to the girls’ room because the weight on his heart was too much. Fizzy was usually the one that listened to him. That made him feel better.<br/>
<br/>
“He’s been making comments about everything I do, Fiz. It’s always the color of my shirts, the way I talk. I don’t know if you heard him when he said-“<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, I heard.” She takes a sip of her cup. “It scared the shit out of me.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>(“If I were his dad, I’d definitely sacrifice my son the moment I notice him being all sissy.” He didn't flinch saying that while watching Rhodes.)</em><br/>
<em><br/>
</em>“He’s obsessed. He’s lost it.”<br/>
<br/>
She sighs and nods. “I don’t see this ending in another way than you showing up with a girlfriend, to be honest.”</p><p>“You think?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, I think you defending gays and not showing with a girlfriend in a while definitely marks on his little brain as suspicious enough.”<br/>
<br/>
She had a point.<br/>
He has never really had the time for relationships, to be fair. He spends too much time between music and football, and occasionally work and school.<br/>
It’s not like he has told his sisters he doesn’t really label himself in terms of sexuality, either, but they just know. It’s a form of communication they’ve developed with time. They don’t have to talk about their feelings because they already know. And it’s alright, it works.<br/>
<br/>
So they discussed ideas for a proper girlfriend to show up with, so his dad would stop messing with him. She has to be beautiful but not overwhelmingly beautiful. Pretty could do. Not that smart, but also not boring. Not too much into politics since dad always likes to pick fights about it and, in the possible, with nothing that people could criticize about her. Enough to make it seem logic that he’d fallen for her.<br/>
<br/>
And that’s how he asked Eleanor out.<br/>
The first dates Louis had the tiny hope she was actually interesting, that she had something especial hidden somewhere so he could bring himself to like her.<br/>
Nothing, absolutely nothing.<br/>
But she liked him back, which was enough.<br/>
<br/>
They made out on their second date. In the car.<br/>
He introduced her to his parents on the fifth date.<br/>
They had sex on the sixth.<br/>
Barely.<br/>
And he actually felt a bit bad about it.<br/>
<br/>
She seemed genuinely interested on him. She introduced him to her friends and took him to parties. Eleanor is a little older than him so it was an interesting experience, but an empty one all the way.<br/>
He didn’t think he was using her, though. He tried so much to like her and he did, sometimes, especially when she was quiet. She was definitely pretty while driving.<br/>
<br/>
The day he was going to tell her he was leaving town it was one of the best and worst days of his life.<br/>
Best, because he actually thought he wouldn’t have to deal with her and the whole breaking up thing. He wouldn’t have to provoke something like a dumb fight or else to leave her. He’s leaving town. And it’s a totally valid excuse.<br/>
For a reason it felt like freedom was on the new city he was moving into, even though if he would be living there with his dad. He didn’t care.<br/>
He felt so happy he even sang in the shower.<br/>
Eleanor was coming over so he was going to tell her the news on his room. And everything would be perfectly fine. And he would forget the time he tried to act straight in front of his family.<br/>
<br/>
But his plans got crashed, as usual.<br/>
And it started the second Eleanor was the only one who laughed at one of his dad’s homophobic jokes. The pain it caused him was comparable to a kick in the balls.<br/>
He waited anxiously for the moment they could go to his room and talk about him leaving –therefore, to break up with her—but his mum asked her about her plans after graduating.<br/>
That’s when she told them she was applying to a university on the city they were going to move into soon.<br/>
<br/>
Louis almost choked on his food.<br/>
Because he had no excuse anymore if she got accepted. Which she did.<br/>
And then he got too lazy to do something about it, so he kept pretending.<br/>
<br/>
Well, that until he met Harry.<br/>
Harry.<br/>
<em>Oh, Harry.</em><br/>
<br/>
The curly clumsy boy who bumped into him wearing some golden glitter on his eyes on the New Year’s. That was it, for him. That was all he had to do to make Louis fall like an idiot.<br/>
<br/>
Because Harry was like no one he has ever met before.<br/>
It started the moment he stuttered to the simple bump. Normally, people don’t even say sorry and they just walk away. Harry deeply stared into his eyes and panicked. Louis found it hilarious.<br/>
He heard there was another boy living upstairs, two days after they moved in December. Louis’ room was directly under his so he could hear what music he played when his radio was too loud.<br/>
The boy had taste, and Louis was desperately waiting to run into him one day, maybe to have someone to talk to. To make friends.<br/>
<br/>
So the party at Jane’s was pretty convenient.<br/>
He didn’t know how he looked so he didn’t realize that the boy with good taste from upstairs and the shy boy with glitter eyes at the party were the same person until later that night, which for his surprise made him feel even better about Harry. He had a cool awkward vibe around him that only attracted Louis even more.<br/>
<br/>
The attack they witnessed walking home after the party that night stayed on his mind eternally. He saw his father’s hatred incarnated in an inhumane act. It terrified him, because that also could’ve been him. Sometimes he wonders what his father would actually do if he finds out he fancies boys too. He definitely doesn’t want to know.<br/>
Harry’s hug brought him to life. He found comfort in a stranger’s hug. His hug. And it was perfect, because somehow he figured he felt the same way or that, at least, he wouldn’t laugh at his dad’s jokes.<br/>
Which was enough.<br/>
<br/>
Something that scared him was that maybe he was having the wrong impression on Harry.<br/>
He didn’t.<br/>
He noticed when they were watching the weather together, the first day they hanged out.<br/>
<br/>
There was something deeply magnetic about him, about the way he moved, he breathed, he smiled. The way he listened to him while making a dork comment about The Clash’s drummer. He genuinely cared. Genuinely listened.<br/>
And his face. His factions and expressions were something, according to Louis, out of this earth. He could talk about anything and make it interesting.<br/>
So when they were on his sofa, ten centimeters away from each other’s face and Harry decided to lean in, Louis almost lost it.<br/>
And he ran to the worst place to hide. The bathroom. He spent fifteen minutes reminding himself he had a girlfriend, that he doesn’t know Harry actually felt the same thing, that he couldn’t risk their good chemistry over an awkward moment like that, which was certainly provoked by him.<br/>
Even if he knew on the inside that, in fact, Harry was maybe willing to kiss him that night.<br/>
<br/>
Even if he knew that asking him exclusively for his friendship disappointed him too, a little.<br/>
<br/>
So time passed and they became friends. Good friends.<br/>
And every day Harry managed to be even more interesting. And cool to be around. And smart. And strong. And handsome. And funny.<br/>
Harry was unintentionally funny, like that time they were listening to one of his classical music cassettes –the Carnival of Animals from Camille Saint-Saëns, to be exact—and there was this piece that made Harry cackle. A piece that, according to him, “it was composed as a joke, mocking the animalistic way musicians had to practice.”<br/>
Or that time he memorized an entire commercial so he could search for the song on it only to find it was specifically composed for said commercial. Harry made his own version of the song on a synth key from Niall. It was definitely funny.<br/>
He could also be vulnerable. He told him how his parents split up when he was younger and how his dad hasn’t called them in a year and a half. How he struggles to ask for help. How bad his first kiss was, even though he didn’t tell him the details because reliving the moment was painful enough. How he feels lonely even when surrounded by people, because he can’t help but to be himself and "people don't seem to be too much into that".<br/>
He's just as transparent as Louis.<br/>
And he loves it.<br/>
<br/>
Eventually, he started to want more. Sometimes he would dream about him and write it on a little journal he has, hiding under his bed. Sometimes a song would remind him of Harry’s eyes and he’d keep it to himself. Sometimes he would hear him listening to some random love song by his window and he would try to imagine Harry’s thoughts, if he happened to be thinking about him too.<br/>
Sometimes he would touch him, and the mere feeling of it was too much.<br/>
So much Louis quickly lost all interest –not that there was any but he was done trying– in Eleanor, and she started to get suspicious.</p><p><br/>
It all started with the hugs. Then, cancelling plans to spend more time with Harry. And the inside jokes at lunch and the way Louis would laugh too much at Harry’s jokes. Or vice versa.<br/>
Ella, who was conveniently Eleanor’s cousin –and the reason Louis got into St. Mary’s on the first place, since his parents wanted him to go somewhere private and El talk them out of it because “St. Mary’s was a pretty good school according to her cousin”– also started to notice certain behaviors, so Eleanor naturally followed her into that logic.<br/>
Louis didn’t understand most of the time why would people care so much about his sexuality, it felt like a witch hunt.<br/>
<br/>
But it didn’t matter.  <br/>
Not until Harry’s birthday, which for him was also the best and worst day ever.<br/>
He thought about the gift the moment he mentioned how much he loved photography, how he felt the digital era now is ruining it. How it kind of terrified him, the way technology is evolving every month. That’s why he sticks to cassettes and vinyls; "you could keep them for decades and they’d remind the same. It's lovely."<br/>
<br/>
Louis sold his old skateboard and a watch his grandfather gave him four Christmases ago. He never used it anyways, but obviously he called him to ask if he could sell it.<br/>
<br/>
He recollected enough money to pick a good Polaroid, and he picked the green one since Harry is deeply fascinated by that color –also the song Little Green reminded him so much of his eyes–, so it worked perfectly.<br/>
<br/>
When he got to write the note, the night before Friday, he really struggled to not put how much he fancied him in that moment, how he ruined his favorite songs because his face is all he can think of. He couldn’t afford to do that. A perfect way to start it is to make sure he didn’t open it until 12, something that Harry would probably do.<br/>
<br/>
Louis thought about Harry in the future, how he would change with time. How he would be probably the successful musician he always dreamed of. Every time he talks about what he expects from his career his pupils grow bigger, his breathing accelerates, his tone goes higher. He even talks faster, which shows a lot how much he wants it. His mind already thinking about what kind of songs he wants to perform, the clothes he will use, the themes he will use on his music videos, profoundly inspired by David Bowie with a touch of Elton John.<br/>
<br/>
Louis loves that passion.<br/>
So he wrote about how special he is, without being too cheesy.<br/>
<br/>
All the money he spent on the gift definitely worth it. Harry’s eyes literally sparkled with emotions, and he got a fairly good cuddle for it.<br/>
For him it was enough.<br/>
There was something great on spoiling him, and even if he tried not to, he kind of imagined himself doing it more. Giving him cassettes, books, incense sticks. Taking him out to dinner, going to gigs, even travelling. All those things he never imagined with someone else, but Harry. He was <em>that</em> special.<br/>
He wished they would’ve stayed in bed that day. Ditch school and cuddle Harry was definitely a good plan, not realistic, but a nice plan whatsoever.<br/>
Things would’ve been different, probably.<br/>
<br/>
His good mood got ruined by Eleanor later that morning.<br/>
She called to say she wanted to visit him that night, that they needed to talk.<br/>
They met up at 8 on his flat and she went straight into his room. She was definitely not pleased.<br/>
<br/>
“Ella told me you gave Harry a ride to school today.” She sat in the bed.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, I did. Tomorrow’s his birthday so I gave him his present earlier.”<br/>
<br/>
Something seemed off on her face, like she was actually pissed about something. Louis knows, as her voice sounds even more posh. It’s kind of annoying.<br/>
<br/>
“I need you to be honest with me, Louis. I need full honesty.”<br/>
<br/>
“What’s wrong?” <em><br/>
<br/>
</em>“I think Harry’s got a crush on you.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis’ heart went directly into his throat.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t really think so, no. He wouldn’t-“<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not dumb, I see things happening. I see the way he looks at you. It’s not only me but Ella too. She saw you this morning with Harry. Is there something happening that I don’t know of?”<br/>
<br/>
He tried to laugh it off. “That’s just ridiculous, love. We’re good friends, that’s all.”<br/>
<br/>
She was not having it. “I’m not talking only about today, but every day you hang out with him. He definitely fancies you; don’t you see?”<br/>
<br/>
“Err, no? Not really, I don’t pay attention.”<br/>
<br/>
“Sure you don’t. He definitely looks at you in a different way, though. Ella told me about it. And every time I call you here your sister tells me you’re with him. He’s probably obsessed with you, it's annoying.” She was really upset about it, and Louis’ heartbeats were not giving him a break. His hands got sweaty really quick. She shakes her head. “I think you shouldn’t see him anymore.”<br/>
<br/>
“El, that’s insane. I’m not going to do that.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, alright. Brilliant. Keep being best friends with him then.”<br/>
<br/>
“We’re not even best friends, I think it’s nice to have someone to talk about.”<br/>
<br/>
“So I don’t exist? Am I not available? What about Liam or your other friends?”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s different.”<br/>
<br/>
She scoffs. “See? He definitely manipulates you. He’s drawing you away because he wants you all to himself.”<br/>
<br/>
“Wha-“ He can’t believe what’s happening right now. “No, there’s no way that’s happening. You don’t even know him. You’re really making the situation bigger than it is.”<br/>
 <br/>
“It is, Louis. It is as long as you don’t clear things up with him. He’s way too cheeky.”<br/>
<br/>
“He hasn't done anything cheeky, also, he’s well aware you are my girlfriend. Don’t you think it is a bit rushed to think he could have a crush on me?”<br/>
<br/>
She stands up, leans her back on the wall. “It is not. If he knows you have a girlfriend why does he always has the need to touch you?”<br/>
<br/>
“You’re really exaggerating things here, El.”<br/>
<br/>
She shakes her head again. “I’m not. I don’t know him, or his intentions with you. What if one day he tries to make a move? Or one day you’re too drunk and he tries to take advantage of you? You don’t really know how those people are, I-“<br/>
<br/>
“Harry would never do that. Again, it’s not your place to discuss him like that.”<br/>
<br/>
“I think you’re the one choosing to ignore an important issue. I'm not the enemy here. I'm pointing out something that will eventually became worse. If it's not a big deal, tell me what your dad would think about him, then? You hanging out pretty much every day you have a chance with your gay friend? Wouldn’t he think is weird too?”<br/>
<br/>
Louis feels sick. Awfully sick.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t wanna have this conversation anymore.” He closes his eyes, trying to digest what she just said. “Not with you. You don’t know if he’s gay. You don’t know him.”<br/>
<br/>
“Do you?”<br/>
<br/>
“I do, yeah.”<br/>
<br/>
“Have you seen him, Louis? He wears fucking eye makeup!”<br/>
<br/>
Someone knocks. It’s Fizzy.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sorry, someone’s on the… phone.”<br/>
<br/>
And it’s Harry, asking him to maybe walk together to his birthday party at Jane’s.<br/>
And his heart aches, for multitude of reasons. He’s barely processing what she told him, and now he has the urgent need to protect him. From everyone. From people like Eleanor, and Ella, and his dad, and the rest of the world. Because people love to talk and mock and judge. Because deeply in his mind he knows how obvious they can be sometimes, even when it’s not completely intended.<br/>
It’s a fucking witch hunt.<br/>
He thinks about it while Harry tells him about how he’s finally forming his band. How it’s been a nice day for him overall.<br/>
He feels a lump on his throat. He tells him some silly lie like he has to pick El up before the party, and that’s it.<br/>
And it fucking hurts.<br/>
Because right now he’d rather ask him to stay home, watch some weird movie and maybe, just maybe, cuddle a little bit more. He can be selfish, not demonstrating it is something else. He hasn’t got the time to think the meaning of El’s inappropriate comments properly, or how it’ll affect his relationship with Harry.<br/>
<br/>
Fizzy’s hand touches his shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s ok, Lottie is talking with her.”<br/>
<br/>
“Did you hear?”<br/>
<br/>
“Thin walls, for our disgrace.” She presses her lips. “Let’s buy something to eat, come on. She will deal with her and hopefully calm her down.”<br/>
<br/>
When they’re on the elevator, Louis realizes how serious the situation is. Eleanor knows his father is homophobic. She will probably expose him if he breaks up with her. Ella would do that too, at school. The mere thought of it has him shaking.<br/>
<br/>
“Oi, easy.” She hugs him. “We should’ve thought about this better, innit?”<br/>
He nods. It would’ve been best for him to break up the minute he got into this city.<br/>
<br/>
“So eye makeup?” They walk to Mrs. Bailey’s.<br/>
<br/>
“Glitter.” <em>Harry’s eyes. Harry’s eyes. Harry’s eyes.<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Sounds fair. He’s probably cooler than her and that’s why she’s jealous.”<br/>
He giggles. Harry’s definitely has more taste than her.<br/>
<br/>
They bring pizza and when they get back home, mum and dad are there.<br/>
His mind elsewhere.<br/>
Because he knew it would happen, eventually. He would have to face his feelings for the curly boy. He never thought it’d be like this, that she’d dare to even mention a possibility of her exposing him which, in consequence, means Ella could expose them too to more people. She knows people on the football team, and that is just as terrifying as the thought of his dad finding stuff out. Now, thinking a way of leaving her is even more complicated.<br/>
And he wants to protect Harry from that, too.<br/>
The only chance he gets to talk to Eleanor is in the car, on their way to Jane’s.<br/>
<br/>
“Alright.”<br/>
<br/>
“Alright what?” She looks at him, raising an eyebrow.<br/>
<br/>
“Alright, I’ll talk to him.”<br/>
<br/>
She sighs. “I’m... I'm sorry, I know I kind of overreacted but-“<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t want to hear it.” She seems shocked by his tough tone. Louis doesn’t even flinch. “You said what you really felt.”<br/>
<br/>
“I really didn’t mean to sound like that, Lou. I’m just worried.”<br/>
<br/>
“No. You’re not.” He keeps driving, his gaze lost in the traffic. “You’re being judgmental. And if he decides to wear fucking makeup is his business. Not yours, not even mine. His. And it doesn’t have anything to do with me.”<br/>
<br/>
She doesn’t say anything, probably because deep down she knows he’s right. He is. Telling her this stuff is not wrong. What is wrong is him not leaving her the second she said those things.<br/>
<br/>
Because he lives in constant fear and admires Harry’s bravery to be himself on this shitty world. People like that are extremely rare, people like him shouldn’t go through this stuff. <br/>
And he’s not going to be the one to drag him into this mess.<br/>
So he decides to be brave too and protect him the only way he figured on the short time he was given.<br/>
He’ll try to act like the friend he tried to be on the first place, without the touches and the unconscious flirting.<br/>
Or he’ll push him away, if that doesn’t work.<br/>
Not before he tells him how he really feels.<br/>
<br/>
It sucks that it has to happen on his birthday. The moment he saw him kissing Molly, his chest burned in jealousy. He knew what Ella was doing, which also made him feel sicker.<br/>
When they danced together, Louis realized how hard it’ll be to actually step back. To pretend to be his friend with no other intentions. He knows Harry wants more too, even if he doesn’t say it. He notices in the way he looks back while they’re dancing, the way he meets his gaze every single time they happen to be in the same room. In the way his face subtly changes when he uses the word “love” by the end of a sentence.<br/>
On the way he never says no to be ten centimeters away from his face.<br/>
So, second option it is.<br/>
And it’ll hurt, like when you’re falling and you’re about to hit the ground. The pain you feel when you know you won’t be able to make it stop.<br/>
<br/>
And even if himself thinks it’s probably the most stupid idea he’s ever had, it’ll work to keep Eleanor’s guard down. Everyone else’s guard down.<br/>
So he reminds himself, every time: <em>this is for him, this is to keep him away from this mess that I am. This is me showing him I care.</em><br/>
<br/>
Only that Harry didn’t help. At all.<br/>
Because he told him he wanted him back, out loud.<br/>
So the subject was there. The words were out, like floating between them.<br/>
<br/>
So he cut all ties immediately, didn’t try to make it less painful.<br/>
<br/>
The first days he straight up ignored him were the hardest.<br/>
He could feel his confused, anxious stare. The way he stuttered while looking at him. He could see him for afar, his disappointed face, expecting answers. And he felt like the biggest dickhead on the entire world.<br/>
<br/>
That’s why he used to not understand Jesus when he was younger; on his opinion, sacrifice was useless if you suffered for it too. Now he gets it, it is still fucking stupid, but that’s what you do for the people you try to protect. For the people you care about.<br/>
The big difference is that he’s not Jesus. And people knew Jesus was trying to save them.<br/>
Harry didn’t know that, so he was still being a dickhead to his eyes. He kind of was, a little. He felt that way.<br/>
<br/>
His relationship with Eleanor also changed during those weeks without Harry, and it wasn’t only because of him. It was about her views in life, how she didn’t care about the essential things. Everything for her was other people’s lives, and what happened on this reality show, and what clothes she wanted to buy on the weekend. It was exhausting.<br/>
They even stopped having sex, and it wasn’t that they did it often, but he just couldn’t bring himself into it. He made excuses like he had a headache, or that he was too tired. He started to focus on football, to drink a lot to cope with things and, sometimes, he would cry drunk on his bed thinking about all those things he couldn’t say.</p><p>The situation at home wasn't helping either. His sisters looked more exhausted from all the constant fighting. Lottie's anxiety got even worse, and Fiz spent as much time outside as possible. Not being able to do a thing about it added some more reasons for him to feel like shit. <br/>
<br/>
Most of the time he was angry, and angry was the way he lived, he breathed, he existed. It was that or sadness, and he was done with being sad.<br/>
Because being as transparent as he is, obviously people started to notice something was wrong.<br/>
Like that day Liam gave him a ride home, after he was mean to Harry on the lockers.<br/>
<br/>
“Do you really think like that about him?”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t know. Maybe I just wasn’t having it.”<br/>
<br/>
He has always had this paternal presence. Louis has always wondered if he perceives him like that because he has a shitty father or that Liam is just wiser.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t know what happened between you two because I could swear you were friends, but that was completely uncalled for from you. He was there supporting us, and we’re not dumb, we know he’s not into it, but he tries anyway.” He uses a soft tone, but strict still. He’s not wrong.<br/>
“I know you’re better than that.” He looks at him, his eyes soft, a sincere smirk. “I’m your friend, but that doesn’t mean I’m not calling you out when you act like a wanker.”<br/>
<br/>
He was acting like a wanker, but the world definitely felt darker having Harry near yet so distant. To not being able to say more, to do more than that.<br/>
He stopped hanging out with them, which was the right option since he deserved way better friends. It made it easier, to be distant.<br/>
He could catch him laughing with his new friends or talking about something that looked interesting only by his expressions.<br/>
So Louis started to hope he would forget about him eventually. That he would move on and that maybe one day, if he ever forgives him, they could be friends again.<br/>
<br/>
And it seemed like it, like he moved on.<br/>
That until the day Niall came to Fairview, the weekend before he ended up drunk on Harry’s bed.<br/>
<br/>
He first felt off about Harry the minute he heard his music by the window. Incredibly sad, mostly The Smiths. And Niall pretty much confirmed he was not feeling good.<br/>
It was probably for something else, there was no way he could know that. Louis fantasized a little with comforting him, telling him he felt the same way, that it’s ok. That he’s not alone.<br/>
<br/>
When he got home after meeting Niall briefly, he felt sad again. Not angry.<br/>
First, because it is partly his fault how things ended and second, because the sudden wave of regret slaps him so hard he finds himself unable to leave his bed until the next day.<br/>
“I Wanna Be Adored” by The Stone Roses playing from his Walkman.<br/>
<br/>
He wanted Harry back.<br/>
And the thought of doing something about it came at the same time he coincidentally started to hang out with them. On Wednesday, after practice, Liam told him it was because his friends were travelling and that Niall didn’t want him to be alone.<br/>
Louis tried to interact with him those days but it was hard, Harry didn’t try to look back like before, he would always get to their table last and leave first. It seemed logic, but it was making his plan even more difficult.<br/>
<br/>
Until he got wasted on Friday and got the most stupid idea he has ever had, straight out of a rom-com.<br/>
They were all hanging out on Ella’s house blasting to some good tunes when the tequilas got the best of him. The trigger? Blur. They were playing Harry’s favorite album of them, which made him feel like drinking a thousand shots.<br/>
Eleanor wanted to go home but he couldn’t drive, so she asked someone else to do it. Ella offered him to stay and he was about to do it, until he saw Niall. How he got the idea? A complete mystery.<br/>
<br/>
“Nialler! You going home?”<br/>
<br/>
Niall frowned. “No, mate. I’m staying.”<br/>
<br/>
“What if you give me a ride?”<br/>
<br/>
“But Ella said…”<br/>
<br/>
“I’d really appreciate to wake up in me bed tomorrow morning. Come on, help me a little.”<br/>
<br/>
He rolls his eyes. “I can’t. Sorry.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis walks to him. The floor moving like a bloody boat. “You give me a ride and I’ll do your math’s work.”<br/>
<br/>
“Lou, you suck at math.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’ll take you out to eat.”<br/>
<br/>
“But why-“<br/>
<br/>
“Please.” <em>Don’t be a dickhead. </em>“I really need to go home.”<br/>
<br/>
Niall looks at Jane, she raises an eyebrow. “You owe me this one, I mean it.”<br/>
<br/>
So they left, and he purposely left his stuff in Ella’s room. Specifically the keys.<br/>
<br/>
“Not the keys, Tommo.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yup, they’re gone. I left everything I swear.”<br/>
<br/>
“But what can we do then?”<br/>
<br/>
Louis sighs, this is the crucial part of his plan. “Maybe call Harry and ask him if we can stay on his place.”<br/>
<br/>
Niall looks at him from the rear-view mirror. “You’re clearly drunk.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know he won’t say no.”<br/>
<br/>
“But you don’t like him-“<br/>
<br/>
“For fuck sakes Niall, just call him. Please.”<br/>
<br/>
And then he decided to lay on the back seat, waiting for his response. He was completely clueless of his whereabouts, but somehow he figured a way to talk to Harry and maybe, if he didn’t hate him that much, talk some things through. Of course, in the only thing he didn’t think was about how wasted he was and felt. He can talk some shit when he’s drunk.<br/>
But there was no other more casual way to approach him.<br/>
And he really missed him.<br/>
<br/>
He really really missed him.<br/>
He felt asleep to the thought of a second chance, not that he deserved it but there was nothing he could lose.<br/>
And he could regret everything in the morning, but it didn’t matter.<br/>
<br/>
Harry’s worth it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. "Highschool Lover"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>"oh, i can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland"</i>
</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Every title is named after a song that I think evokes the feeling I want to portray and/or the character itself.<br/>The title of this chapter is based on "Highschool Lover" by Air, it's a beautiful song. 100% recommended. </p><p>Someone sent me a message asking me to make a playlist of the songs that are referenced here, so I'll do it soon! </p><p>Thank you all for the lovely comments, I really appreciate them. You're all amazing! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>Monday. May 10<sup>th</sup>, 1999. 05:54 am.</strong><br/>
<br/>
Harry woke up 36 minutes earlier than his alarm, but it’s not like he’s feeling sleepy at all.<br/>
It’s just his brain thinking he got enough sleep in five hours.<br/>
He stays there looking into the dark of his room, with only the sound of his own breathing. <br/>
He opens the window to watch the cars running down, which makes him wonder what kind of people drive this early.<br/>
On a Monday.<br/>
When the sun still hasn’t got out.<br/>
<br/>
To distract himself, he turns on the lamp and the light hurts his eyes. He goes to his closet to plan his outfit for today: his old denim, a plain white shirt, some brown trousers and his Converse to keep it simple. He glances the burgundy jumper on his desk chair. He can’t help but to smirk a little. He can’t wear it to school, even if Harry loves the color and it’d look perfect with his outfit.<br/>
He picks it up and smells it. No, inhales it. He stands there for five minutes, savoring the memory from his last weekend.<br/>
He feels like a cat on catnip.<br/>
<br/>
Harry takes a quick shower and brushes his teeth, fixes his hair and shaves his face clean. Looks presentable.<br/>
When he’s done, the clock marks 06:37.<br/>
It’s too early to do anything at all, so he cleans his room.<br/>
06:45.<br/>
Fucking hell.<br/>
He lies down on his freshly made bed and puts on his headphones, after he looking for a cassette that one of Gemma’s friends lent to him last year. “Sunflower”, by The Beach Boys.<br/>
There is this song in particular that reminds him of someone’s smile, so he smiles like a dork throughout its 2:42 minutes. He looks on his jacket for a random receipt –he always saves them to later put them in the bin, with no success– and he writes one of the lyrics.<br/>
<br/>
<em><strong>"If every word I said could make you laugh, I'd talk forever." </strong></em><br/>
<br/>
It’s a cloying thing to do, but he likes it. Captures the moment just right.<br/>
<br/>
07:21.<br/>
Sarah calls him.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re up?”<br/>
<br/>
“No, actually I’m still sleeping.” His tone goes higher. “You’re now talking to Harry’s mum.”<br/>
<br/>
“Alright, Harry’s mum. Tell little Harry we’re on our way and we want to buy some coffee before, so please we need him to move his arse down the lobby and wait for us.”<br/>
<br/>
He giggles. “Ok. See you in a bit.”<br/>
One of the things that were making him happy at the moment was that Sarah and Mitch were back from London. This is the last two months he will hang out with them at school. A part of him is ready for it, a part of him still feels sad.<br/>
She texted him yesterday to let him know they were going to pick him up to school because <em>they missed his frog-face</em>. Deep down, he felt a little insecure about his nose for a minute, but the thought of seeing them again overshadowed his feeling.<br/>
<br/>
The morning was cold and misty. It was perfect for a hot beverage.<br/>
When they get there, Mitch screams out the window. “Oh my god, is that Mick Jagger?”<br/>
<br/>
He sits in the backseat. “My god, is this John and Yoko?”<br/>
<br/>
Sarah chuckles. “Hey. Do we look like rich hippies?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry tilts his head. “You look like goth hippies.”<br/>
<br/>
They’re listening to one of Sarah’s top 10 albums: “Heaven or Las Vegas”, by the Cocteau Twins. The car smells like lavender. Somehow they own the color purple, like anytime he thinks about them it’s impossible not to relate them to the color.<br/>
<br/>
“How’s London?”<br/>
<br/>
“Didn’t ask her.”<br/>
<br/>
“Shut it.” Sarah turns around. “Jolly good, Harry. We even got to see Happy Mondays, it was insane! And we went to Madame Tussauds to see The Spice Girls.”<br/>
<br/>
“I was pretty sure she was going to leave me for wax Mel C”<br/>
<br/>
“I wasn’t. Only that she was excessively pretty.”<br/>
<br/>
“A wax figure.”<br/>
<br/>
“A wax figure.” She looks at Harry. “I still can’t get over Sporty Spice.”<br/>
<br/>
He smiles. “I know. I’ve seen it.”<br/>
<br/>
“Someone tried to flirt with me at the concert. And Mitch was next to me.”<br/>
<br/>
“What did you tell them?”<br/>
<br/>
“I told him that I was with my boyfriend but he didn’t care. He was really obnoxious, so I wanted to make him uncomfortable.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry grins. “And what did you do?”<br/>
<br/>
“I told him my dearest boyfriend was also my cousin. You should’ve seen his face” She makes a southern accent. “I swear he thought I was from sweet-home Alabama for a minute there.”<br/>
<br/>
They tell him about all the cool stuff they did, like how Mitch improvised with some street musician and he actually gave him part of the tips, or how they ate from McDonald’s for three days straight. Sarah showed him all the Polaroids they took there, and London looked beautiful under film compared to the messy, dusty streets from their city. Harry was fond of them, though. This is where he grew up.  <br/>
But London also looks so attractive.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
They park at school, each with a coffee and a muffin. Mitch is finishing his cigarette.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, I almost forgot. We have amazing news.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry sips his coffee. “What?”<br/>
<br/>
“Come on, I need more excitement.”<br/>
<br/>
He rolls his eyes. “Oh my god, what is it?”<br/>
<br/>
She shakes her head and points to her nose. “I got us an audition.”<br/>
<br/>
He raises an eyebrow. “Wha- Where? How?”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s basically a small battle of the bands. The winner gets to play at the Astoria.”<br/>
<br/>
And he chokes. “<em>The</em> Astoria? No. Fucking. Way.”<br/>
<br/>
Mitch turns at him. “Yes-fucking-way. If we win, we get to open for The Flaming Lips in October.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, shit. That’s… I mean…” Harry can barely articulate a word. “We haven’t even played here yet.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know.” Sarah nods. “That’s why we need to move our arses and start rehearsing more. I talked to someone that knows the person who arranges Berlin’s presentations, and they can let us play there.”<br/>
<br/>
“Does Niall know?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, we just waited so we could see your face.” Mitch smiles.<br/>
<br/>
Harry’s jaw drops. “I can’t believe this. Oh my god, The Flaming Lips?”<br/>
<br/>
“I know.” Sarah grins. “But let’s not get our hopes too high. We need to work in order to make this happen, alright?”<br/>
<br/>
He feels the luckiest man in the world.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
“How was your week, by the way?”<br/>
<br/>
The question kind of brings him back to reality. “Interesting.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s it? Interesting? No drama?”<br/>
<br/>
“You could say that, yeah.”<br/>
<br/>
She squints her eyes and looks at Mitch, he’s just as surprised. She looks back at Harry. “You’re full of shit.”<br/>
<br/>
“Why?”<br/>
<br/>
“I know that look. What did you do?”<br/>
<br/>
“I didn’t do anything.” He can’t stop himself from smiling, again, like a fool.<br/>
<br/>
She opens her mouth. “Of course you did. Go on, spill.”<br/>
<br/>
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “See you guys at lunch?”<br/>
And just like that, he goes off the car.<br/>
<br/>
“Harry fucking Styles, you’re so dramatic! Come back here! What on earth did you do?”<br/>
<br/>
He keeps walking with the coffee and the blueberry muffin on his hands. He feels himself blushing a little.<br/>
<br/>
Because he hasn’t figured it out how to tell them he snogged Louis on Saturday.<br/>
<br/>
He spends the entire class smiling to himself and not paying too much attention into his teacher’s interpretation of Othello. He's got a massive chance on his hands to play in one of the most iconic venues in London, the best bandmates he could ever ask for and things with this certain blue-eyed boy are going alright. <br/>
He feels the receipt on his pocket and thinks about the stupidest idea. He asks permission to go to the bathroom and runs into Louis’ locker, checks if the coast is clear and puts it in.<br/>
It’s the cheesiest thing he has ever done. Maybe it's just the adrenaline, but he doesn’t regret it. And it’s not like he can interact with him publicly yet. <br/>
<br/>
<br/>
“So we wait for you to bring it up or what?” Sarah inquires, impatiently.<br/>
<br/>
He sits with them. “Bring up what?”<br/>
<br/>
“You’re being a dickhead. Talk.”<br/>
<br/>
“No hello? No how-was-physics?”<br/>
<br/>
“Nope. To be fair, I’m scared that what Mitch said is true.”<br/>
<br/>
“What?”<br/>
<br/>
Sarah looks at him. “That you pierced your nipples.”<br/>
<br/>
“Why would I do that?”<br/>
<br/>
“We talked about it before we left, remember? You said you didn’t know which nipples you’d get pierced on, if you would have the chance to do it.”<br/>
<br/>
(Harry has four nipples, by the way.)<br/>
<br/>
“Well, I didn’t.”<br/>
<br/>
“Then what?”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Here it goes. Once I say it, is real. </em>He closes his eyes and whispers.<br/>
 <br/>
“I kissed Louis.”<br/>
<br/>
She rolls her eyes. “Come on, Harry. You literally started this. What is it?”<br/>
<br/>
He just keeps looking at her, not knowing what else to say.<br/>
Mitch smiles slowly as he realizes and tilts his head on her shoulder. “I don’t think Harry, here, is joking.”<br/>
<br/>
“He clearly is. Right?”<br/>
<br/>
And she looks at him, raising an eyebrow. Harry now looking at his own hands.<br/>
<br/>
“Right?”<br/>
<br/>
Sarah’s face is in utter shock.<br/>
<br/>
“YOU DID WHAT?”<br/>
<br/>
And it’s like the entire school somehow heard her because everyone, like,<em> everyone</em> looked at them. Mitch covers his mouth and they start laughing, while Harry hides his blushed face on his hands.<br/>
Some nerd is looking at them, frowning. And the “What you’re looking at?” from Sarah makes the situation even more awkward and funny.<br/>
Harry really missed them.<br/>
<br/>
She clears her throat. “So now that I clearly embarrassed us in front of the entire school community, can you tell us what happened and how- just, how, Harry? We leave you on your own for days and you just decide to kiss straight boys for fun?”<br/>
<br/>
“He’s clearly not straight, love.” Mitch whispers.<br/>
<br/>
“I know.” She bites her green apple. “I can’t process this. You? And mister <em>you’re-so-fucking-pretentious</em>? Of all people? I thought he hated you.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry nods, as he glances to Niall’s table. They’re all on their own world, talking about something that looks clearly boring as Louis’ face proves it. He gives him a quickly side-look and presses his lips to hide a smile.<br/>
<br/>
It was quite a Saturday.<br/>
<br/>
° ° °</p><p><br/>
Louis takes a sip of his tea, as his legs are crossed under the covers. Harry is sitting towards the end of the bed, anxiously cracking his knuckles.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s good.”<br/>
 <br/>
“Yeah?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s a good brand.”<br/>
<br/>
He nods, holding the cup with both hands, warming his fingers. His hair is messy and his eyes are still sleepy.<br/>
<br/>
Harry sighs. “Did you sleep alright?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, yeah, I did.” He says as he tries to hide a smile. “You snore a little bit.”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t.”<br/>
<br/>
“You do, but I swear it’s barely audible. Like a purr.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry feels himself already blushing. “I should’ve slept on the floor.”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t be silly.” He moves him with his foot. “We all snore from time to time.”<br/>
<br/>
“You didn’t last night.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh but I do, especially on winters, me sisters used to kick me out of bed sometimes.”<br/>
<br/>
They giggle. Louis still with the cup on his hands.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sorry we irrupted in your home yesterday.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s ok, but please carry an extra set of keys next time.”<br/>
<br/>
He looks at his hands. “Yeah, I’ll be careful.”<br/>
<br/>
The room falls silent but at the same time they have so much to talk about, so the energy feels off. The idea of Louis actually being so drunk he forgot Harry almost kissed him terrifies him. At least he’s not being mean.<br/>
He decides to talk first, and when he opens his mouth Louis responds a quick “I know”.<br/>
<br/>
He frowns. “You didn’t even let me start the sentence.”<br/>
<br/>
“But I know.”<br/>
<br/>
“Tell me, then.”<br/>
<br/>
“I remember what we talked yesterday.”<br/>
<br/>
“So?”<br/>
<br/>
He leaves the cup on the nightstand. “Ask me what you need to know and I’ll answer the best I can. Consider me an open book.”<br/>
<br/>
“Ok.” He sighs. Stares him for a minute, trying to think on the right question. “Did you stop talking to me because Eleanor doesn’t like me?”<br/>
<br/>
“Who told you that?”<br/>
<br/>
“A bird.”<br/>
<br/>
“Harry.”<br/>
<br/>
“Gemma told me Lottie told her she heard you talking about me.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis chuckles. “She’s really a snitch, eh?”<br/>
<br/>
“But is it true?”<br/>
<br/>
He presses his lips. “Yes and no.”<br/>
<br/>
“How so?”<br/>
<br/>
And Louis told him almost everything. How Eleanor and Ella started to get suspicious of them, how she confronted him about it, how his house was a constant war zone, worse than he tried to hint before. That his dad is severely homophobic. That Eleanor threatened him to tell his dad and potentially the whole school if something happened between them. The whole mess.<br/>
And it makes total sense.<br/>
Harry feels like a wall of bricks fell upon him. <br/>
<br/>
When he’s done, he sits next to him and covers himself with the bedspread.<br/>
<br/>
“You could’ve told me.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know.”<br/>
<br/>
“I would’ve helped.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know.”<br/>
<br/>
He leans his head on the wall. “I still hate you a little bit.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s all you’re going to say?”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t know what else I can tell you, H. I tried to do the right thing and I did an awful job of it.”<br/>
<br/>
“You tried your best, but I wouldn’t say it was the right thing to do.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah. I know.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sorry you have an awful dad.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis turns his face. “It is what it is.”<br/>
<br/>
“It shouldn’t. You deserve better than that. Your mum, your sisters. It’s not ok.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’ve tried to talk mum about it. She refuses to leave him, and I don’t know why. She doesn’t even like him anymore.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, so it’s genetic.” Harry whispers.<br/>
<br/>
Louis rolls his eyes. “It’s different.”<br/>
<br/>
“El's not different.” He sighs. “I still can’t believe that poor soul is tasteless enough to hate on my eyeshadow.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis chuckles. “Yeah, I don’t get it either.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry turns and faces him, looking straight into his eyes. “Don’t do that to me again, ok? I can… I could’ve helped. I could’ve literally pretended we’ve never met before if you needed that. If that would’ve made you stay.”<br/>
<br/>
He meets his glance and, with a deep breath, he leans to hug him. Brings his lips close to his ear.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m so sorry.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know. You were scared.”<br/>
<br/>
“If it makes you feel better I felt like shit too.”<br/>
<br/>
“It doesn’t. It makes me feel sadder.”<br/>
<br/>
He doesn’t respond immediately, but then. “Is there a way I can make up for it?”<br/>
<br/>
Louis can’t see him, but Harry’s face turned into a cheeky smile. “Maybe.”<br/>
<br/>
He lets go of the hug and gets close enough for the tip of his nose can touch his. “Enlighten me, then.”<br/>
<br/>
He lets out a nervous laugh, since he didn’t expect to have him that close, that fast.<br/>
And the moment he decides to be brave enough, Gemma knocks the door and shouts “Harry” as she goes in.<br/>
They separate as soon as they hear the door open.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, shit. No, no, no. I’m sorry.” Her eyes open as a plate, panicking. “I thought… I thought you were alone.” Louis starts to laugh. “What a nice surprise, Lou.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s always nice to see you, Gemma.”<br/>
<br/>
“You’re-“<br/>
<br/>
“He was drunk and forgot his keys so he needed a place to crash.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, I get it.” She nods. “I just came here to tell you that I’m making breakfast, if you care to join us?”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s alright love, I need to go back home actually. I need a shower.”<br/>
<br/>
“Ok.” She stands on the door for the longest ten seconds in Harry’s life. “I’m sorry, I- I’ll go.”<br/>
<br/>
She closes the door and they start laughing again. The subtle intensity of the moment before vanished quickly.<br/>
<br/>
“I really have to go; they probably think I’m still sleeping down there.”<br/>
<br/>
He picks up his clothes and goes to the bathroom to change. Harry wonders why he’s suddenly so shy about it but then remembers he was drunk, so obviously that changes things.<br/>
He ties his shoes in silence as Harry stares at him, studying and memorizing every move. There’s something soothing on watching Louis doing things, anything in particular; it’s the way he frowns a little when he’s concentrated. It’s a soft expression but solid, nonetheless. Like when he reads something, or when he watches other people, or while he watches tv. His eyes also squint while doing so and he’s not sure if it’s because of the light or that maybe he needs to use glasses.<br/>
<br/>
He’s standing out his door.<br/>
<br/>
“Thanks for letting me stay.”<br/>
<br/>
“Anytime.”<br/>
<br/>
He nods and when he’s about to leave, Harry interrupts him.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you doing something later?”<br/>
<br/>
He turns around. “Maybe, why?”<br/>
<br/>
“I heard a bunch of new movies arrived at Blockbuster last week.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah?”<br/>
<br/>
“Mhm, Gemma told me about it yesterday. It’s a bit far though. I thought of biking there but…”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, what a coincidence! I was just thinking of going because Lottie wanted to rent a film, but she’s too lazy to go by herself.”<br/>
<br/>
“Really?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yep.”<br/>
<br/>
They smile at each other.<br/>
<br/>
“I’ll pick you up at 6.”<br/>
<br/>
“Brilliant.”<br/>
<br/>
And so he leaves. And Harry has exactly five and a half hours to panic.<br/>
Gemma interrogates him and he manages to avoid every single question. He doesn’t want to talk about him right now, he wants to enjoy the moment.<br/>
Because <em>what the fuck is actually happening?</em><br/>
There’s a lot to process.<br/>
<br/>
He hates the thought of Louis being sad. He’s so naturally bubbly that makes him wonder how he didn’t notice, how he didn’t think besides that he was just ignoring him just because. Of course it was something else, otherwise he wouldn’t have told him he wanted him.<br/>
He was warning him, and he didn’t realize it because he just thought of his own feelings.<br/>
Another part of his mind is telling him not to be so hard on himself; those things are not the kind to figure out so easily. It doesn’t make him any good to overanalyze every reaction Louis has about him.<br/>
His anxiety tells him otherwise.<br/>
He's sitting in his room, no music on the background.<br/>
<br/>
The smell of Louis still on his pillow.<br/>
<br/>
He chooses to think about something else, like when he deliberately ran his fingers through his back at night while he kissed him on the neck, his neck. His heart starts beating fast just to the thought of it.<br/>
Or the little moment they had before Gemma came in without knocking. Was he actually about to kiss him? Will he be able to handle that? Because he already kissed a man and it was alright, but again, it was a stranger. He’s been daydreaming about kissing Louis for almost 4 months.<br/>
So he prays it’s perfect, it’ll happen when it has to happen.<br/>
<br/>
He wouldn’t complain if it happens tonight.<br/>
<br/>
He takes a shower, daring to stay a little longer while the water just falls over his body. On the inside he still feels like Louis will ignore him eventually, and it’s an awful thought. Especially because he kind of have his hopes up again. It’s hard not to. Eleanor still exists on his life, but not because he wants her but because she can possibly expose him and himself to Louis’ family and the rest of school. And what, then? What happens?<br/>
We all know what happens to teen gay boys in public schools.<br/>
And the thought of Louis getting hurt in some way gives him shivers.<br/>
<br/>
So long story short, these are his options: he shuts down his own feelings to keep being friends with him and they pretend nothing happened, and everyone else will be forever clueless to this little story, or he risks his mental health into it and let his feelings grow bigger, pretends nothing happens while everything might be happening, with a chance people will find out eventually.<br/>
And not only people, but we’re also talking about phobic-dad, and phobic-football-team, and phobic-girls, and phobic-boys and phobic-fucking-city.<br/>
Because you still can get killed for kissing boys and raising rainbow flags.<br/>
<br/>
Is it something he needs to sort out right now, in the shower? Probably not. But soon. Definitely soon.<br/>
<br/>
He dresses as he listens to Joy Division’s Unknown Pleasures. He dances like a dork while pulling his trousers up. It’s liberating. He mentally tasks himself to dance more on his room only on his underwear.<br/>
He decides to wear his Kinks black shirt with some dark green plaid trousers, and his good old black Cons. He feels pretty, his eyes are especially green today.<br/>
<br/>
His mum comes back at 2. They talk about some random stuff at dinner and his anxiety lowers down a little bit. <em>Louis will come over in 4 hours, and something might or not might happen.</em><br/>
<br/>
Anne decided to pick today’s album, “Getz/Gilberto”, to accompany them on the evening. Sometimes he thinks is logic that his sister and him have such varied taste in art in general. She is just as artsy as them.<br/>
She loves music from different parts of the world. Harry grew up listening to some nice Italian singers like Sergio Endrigo or Tony Renis, amazing French albums like Francoise Hardy’s self-titled or “Baby Pop” by France Gall.<br/>
His dad, by the other hand, liked the classics like “Dark Side of the Moon” and Queen’s “A Night at the Opera”. It’s one of the few things he misses from him, the way he used to talk to him passionately about those big bands he only got the chance to see at Live Aid in 85’.<br/>
Harry definitely doesn’t want to think about him right now.<br/>
<br/>
Sometimes, he measures people’s luck on parents judging by their taste. He feels awful doing it, but it’s fun. He considers he was privileged on the parent thing. His mum is caring but also gives him enough freedom for him to grow up and figure stuff out on himself, always as long as he trusts her to tell her when things are not ok.<br/>
Which he hasn’t done in months.<br/>
He considers he can do it on his own, so then this story will be something he’ll laugh at in the future.<br/>
Meanwhile, he just waits. Constantly. That's all he does.<br/>
<br/>
“Mum, can I take the telly to my room tonight?”<br/>
<br/>
“But Harry, we’re going out tonight, did you forget? Pizza?”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Oh, fuck.<br/>
<br/>
</em>“I meant… later, when we come back.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, sure.”<br/>
<br/>
Gemma squints her eyes. “You forgot.”<br/>
<br/>
“I didn’t.”<br/>
<br/>
“You had plans.”<br/>
<br/>
“Shush, Gem.”<br/>
<br/>
“Did you make any plans? But I told you earlier. You can tell Niall to come with us, if he’s the one you had plans with.”<br/>
<br/>
He closes his eyes, trying to make it less obvious. “I actually invited Louis.”<br/>
<br/>
She raises an eyebrow. “Louis? I thought you guys stopped being friends.”<br/>
<br/>
Gemma tries hard to hide her cheeky smile. Harry softly kicks her under the table. “We were just too busy to hang out.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s why he stayed yesterday.”<br/>
<br/>
“Gemma!”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, so you invited two of your friends while we were sleeping?”<br/>
<br/>
“She didn’t know?”<br/>
<br/>
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, mum.”<br/>
<br/>
She points at him. “Next time you let me know, ok? Limits, Harry. You don’t live alone.”<br/>
<br/>
<strong>5:12</strong>. Forty-eight minutes left.<br/>
<br/>
Harry is sitting at the sofa while reading some gossip magazine he found on the rack. It’s an old one, from four years ago. He’s just looking at the pictures, trying to remember how different his life was then. How simple things were when Diana was around. (A little not-so-fun fun fact: Harry cried for two days straight when she died.)<br/>
How he’s just anxiously waiting from some Donny boy to arrive to his door. Two hours earlier.<br/>
<br/>
And someone knocks.<br/>
Harry stays frozen as he checks his clocks. They all say 5:13.<br/>
Gemma comes first and opens the door.<br/>
<br/>
“Come in! Harry is just… sitting, there.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis is wearing a white shirt, which makes his eyes look brighter. He has his burgundy jumper on his hands.<br/>
An excited gaze.<br/>
<br/>
“I know I said 6, but I wasn’t really doing anything so I just came up here.”<br/>
<br/>
For some reason, Harry blushes. “It’s alright. I’m not doing anything special right now.”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t forget to tell him about tonight.” Gemma says as she leaves.<br/>
<br/>
He tilts his head.<br/>
<br/>
“Mum asked me to invite you to come with us tonight. It’s pizza night.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh.”<br/>
<br/>
And he says nothing. Absolutely nothing. He just stares at him in the middle of his living room.<br/>
<br/>
“So… wanna come?”<br/>
<br/>
“I guess?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry frowns. “It’s just dinner, don’t worry.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis finally moves and sits next to him on the sofa. “I’m not particularly used to happy dinners with functional families, y’know?”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t be silly, you’ll do good.”<br/>
<br/>
He presses his lips. “So? Shall we pay a visit to Mr. Buster or we just sit here?”<br/>
Neither sounds like a bad idea.<br/>
There’s this odd energy between them, like when you pull two magnets apart and they’re fighting to get close. It’s hard to explain. At the lift, he usually plays with his fingers and waits impatiently for it to go down, this time it looked like a Sunday walk for him. He was calm, with a weird smile on his face, the kind of smile you make after watching a good movie and you feel the last two hours of valuable time you gave to it totally worth it.<br/>
<br/>
Louis car, a blue Ford Escort, feels different than Mitch’s. His car smells like wood and something sweet, again, like vanilla. It has leather black seats and a couple of red darts hanging from the rear mirror.<br/>
Part of the “something soothing” about his presence is that with him, Harry never has to make any small talk to avoid an uncomfortable silence. They just coexist, and it’s not awkward at all. They can talk for 8 hours straight and not talk for two hours. The warm feeling prevails.<br/>
<br/>
He turns on the radio and a cover by Fionna Apple, “Across the Universe”, starts to play. His window is down so the wind caresses his face and mess with his curls. Harry feels Louis’ occasional stare from time to time, and he thinks he likes being looked at by him. He feels like a painting. It also makes him quite conscious about his movements but tries to ignore it.<br/>
<br/>
“I love this song.” He mutters.<br/>
<br/>
“Can you believe she’s like three years older than us?”<br/>
<br/>
“Is she?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, it’s impressive.”<br/>
<br/>
“She has always given me the impression of being an old soul.”<br/>
<br/>
“Old soul?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, Gemma’s friend talked to me about it once. Every time you reincarnate your soul becomes older. Older souls have this wise vibe around them.”<br/>
<br/>
“Do you believe in reincarnation?”<br/>
<br/>
“Maybe, a little.” He rests his head on the seat. “Bitter Sweet Symphony” by The Verve starts to play now. “After she explained to me how it worked some things made more sense.”<br/>
<br/>
“Like what?”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t know, maybe the way I struggle to talk with people of my age, or when sometimes I’m in a place and I feel I’ve been there before, even though I haven’t really visited it. Some smells bring me memories I haven’t made yet.”<br/>
<br/>
“I think it just makes people feel better about themselves.”<br/>
<br/>
“How so?”<br/>
<br/>
“The possibility of having a second chance to redeem yourself somewhere in the future. It’s appealing.”<br/>
<br/>
“How would you explain a déjà-vu then?”<br/>
<br/>
“Maybe it’s something the brain does.”<br/>
<br/>
“And what about those people that remember their past lives?”<br/>
<br/>
“That's literally impossible, love.”<br/>
<br/>
“You’re so boring.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis giggles. “I’m trying to be realistic.”<br/>
<br/>
“Still boring. There are so many unexplainable things in the world that trying to give them all a reason is beyond us.”<br/>
<br/>
“So your logic is reincarnation?”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s not. I’m just not denying its possibility.”<br/>
<br/>
He nods, while looking into the road. “Well, if it were true, I’d believe you an old soul.”<br/>
<br/>
And Harry blushes, because apparently everything Louis says makes him blush. It’s endearing.<br/>
They park and walk into Blockbuster. He glances a bunch of teens at the anime aisle and can’t help but to chuckle. These people are usually the most stereotypical ones.<br/>
The place has its own enchanting vibe, and he thinks he’d love to work in a place like this. Full of movies and candies and interesting people coming over every time.<br/>
They approach the “Drama” section and Louis picks a movie called “The Shawshank Redemption”. The sole name gives enough drama.<br/>
<br/>
“We have to watch this one, it’s amazing.”<br/>
<br/>
“Have you seen it?”<br/>
<br/>
“Last year. It was quite the experience.”<br/>
<br/>
They carry the movie until they get to the “Rom-com” section. It’s empty all around them.<br/>
Harry stares at the different options as Louis walks around, to later stand behind him and lean his head on his shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
“Anything of your interest?”<br/>
<br/>
“Not really.”<br/>
<br/>
He puts his arms around his waist, and his heart starts beating hard against his chest for two reasons; feeling his body so close to him is overwhelming, and they’re in public. Adrenaline rushes through his veins.<br/>
<br/>
“I saw Clueless with Fiz the other day. That’s a good one.”<br/>
<br/>
“I haven’t seen it.”<br/>
<br/>
“Take it.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry suddenly feels his warm cheek pressing against his and has a hard time controlling his breathing. Louis’ nose runs into his jaw softly, and whispers. “You smell good.”<br/>
<br/>
He grins. “Are you flirting with me, Louis Tomlinson?”<br/>
<br/>
Louis whispers even lower. “Maybe.”<br/>
<br/>
They hear someone walking by, so he lets him go and takes a step back. She’s completely unaware of the moment, which makes them laugh. Harry still feels Louis’ arms around him, it’s not something he can shake easily. They walk to the desk as they take a bag of caramel popcorn and Skittles. Louis, for some reason, decides to pay for everything.<br/>
<br/>
They drive back to Harry’s flat as they listen to Suede’s “Electricity”. It’s been on the radio the whole week by now. Harry’s been getting used to this kind of music thanks to Mitch and Sarah, and it’s not that bad for driving. He watches Louis as he drives, squinting his eyes from time to time. He gets to the conclusion he might need glasses. Louis looks a bit lost in it, probably on his thoughts, concentrated enough to ignore Harry’s invasive stare.<br/>
<br/>
When they arrive home, Robin is sitting on the sofa watching the telly with Anne. They look cozy.<br/>
It's 6:30.<br/>
<br/>
“Hello there.” Anne sees their bags with the Blockbuster logo in it. “Oh, did you bring anything interesting?”<br/>
<br/>
“Have you seen The Shawshank Redemption?” Louis asks as he leaves the bags on the table.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t think so.” She turns to Robin. “Have you?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, it’s such a beautiful movie. I saw it on the theater. Did you rent it?”<br/>
<br/>
“We did, I’ve been looking for it for months, now finally I found it.”<br/>
<br/>
“Maybe we could watch it together? Before going out?” Anne asks enthusiastically.<br/>
<br/>
Harry looks at Louis as he visibly swallows and breathes, bit worried. He looks back, clueless.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t know if Louis-“<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, definitely. I’ll prepare the popcorn.”<br/>
<br/>
He doesn’t know why he has that reaction every time someone from his family invites him to do something, so he can’t help but to ask if Louis actually doesn’t like his family. He hopes he’s not feeling forced into it, to do stuff with them. Maybe he’s really not used to it.</p><p>They make the popcorn and sit together. Harry sits with Anne and Robin and Louis sits on the armchair.<br/>
<br/>
“Where’s Gemma?”<br/>
<br/>
“She’ll meet us later, she went out.”<br/>
<br/>
The movie starts and it’s engaging at its first minute. The score is beautifully composed as well and he decides that if he ever has a movie about him, Morgan Freeman would be the perfect narrator. From time to time, he looks at Louis while he’s concentrated on the film. He’s, again, completely immersed on it.</p><p>There’s this scene that makes Anne tear up a little, as she lays on Robin’s arms. The music makes the scene incredibly sad. Louis' expression becomes more and more concerned. Harry moves his foot and touches his leg; he looks at him and he tries to give him a comforting smile. Louis moves his leg and touches Harry’s, softly, as he keeps watching.<br/>
They stay with their legs touching the whole movie.<br/>
By the end of it, Harry has his hand unconsciously touching his own chest, as he sighs to Freeman’s speech.<br/>
<br/>
Anne shakes her head smiling to the credits. “I really want Morgan Freeman to narrate my life.”<br/>
<br/>
“Me too.” Harry sighs.<br/>
<br/>
“I should’ve told you it was quite intense.” Robin laughs, kissing Anne’s head.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s just… that scene with Brooks. Poor man.”<br/>
<br/>
“I still don’t get it why it didn’t get as much praise as Forrest Gump.” Louis stretches his arms, separating his leg from Harry’s.<br/>
<br/>
“The title, it was definitely the title. Too long and confusing.” Robin stands from the sofa. “So… anyone’s hungry? Shall we go?”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
And it turns out alright, actually.<br/>
They sit together in the backseat of Robin’s car, and while Louis is talking to them about life in Doncaster, he starts to play with Harry’s fingers. He touches them one by one. No one seems to notice, and Harry starts touching him too, stroking the back of his hand. He sees how his expression gets cheeky as squeezes his hand<br/>
They eat and Gemma arrives just in time. Sometimes he worries that they might be asking Louis too many questions, but he doesn’t look bothered. He’s naturally nice and he seems to get along with Robin rather good.<br/>
Sometimes, Louis kicks him under the table for no reason; his eyes looking at him, playfully.<br/>
Harry really wants to kiss him.<br/>
<br/>
They drive back without Gemma, since she was going to meet some friends. Louis' eyes stuck on the window. Lost in a thought again. The lights playing on his face as they drive through the city.<br/>
Robin parka outside the entrance.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you leaving us early Robin?” Harry pokes his head between the front seats.<br/>
<br/>
“Actually I am.” Anne looks at him, smiling. “So off you go, I’ll be back tomorrow morning, ok? I think Gemma wanted to invite some friends later, so please check she won’t be making a mess of our house, alright?”<br/>
<br/>
She kisses him on the cheek, as Harry turns to Louis. He presses his lips, holding a grin.<br/>
They say their goodbyes as they go off the car.<br/>
<br/>
“What do you want to do now?” Louis asks, his hands on his pocket. His playful stare back again.<br/>
<br/>
“Usually whenever Gemma invites friends it means they’ll probably buy cheap beer and hang out on the living room, listening to some pretentious shit. It’s not that fascinating, but you’re always invited.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, so it’s genetic?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry hits him on the shoulder with the back of his hand and starts walking to the elevator.<br/>
<br/>
“You coming?”<br/>
<br/>
And they wait.<br/>
The weird vibe from earlier now is more intense. He feels his hands kind of sweaty, his foot taping incessantly on the floor, waiting for the lift to arrive. Louis still with his hands on his pocket.<br/>
Gravity makes his knees feel weak, and he realizes how Louis has a cheeky smile on his face. He doesn't say anything.<br/>
The door opens and they walk out to the door. He takes the keys out and drops them, since now his hands are shaking. Louis picks them up. A wide cheeky smile on his face.<br/>
<br/>
Because they’re inside his house. Alone.<br/>
And this time, he doesn’t want to jump off the window.<br/>
<br/>
Louis goes in and stands in the middle of the living room while Harry shuts the door, leaning his back against it. He looks at him, his soft expression clearly showing some anticipation.<br/>
<br/>
“What do you want to do now?” Louis murmurs, smiling.<br/>
<br/>
“Whatever you want.” He shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Shit, maybe that was too straightforward. </em>Harry looks at the floor, trying to laugh it off, as Louis walks towards him on a slow pace, taking his time. When he faces him, Louis is now in front staring into his eyes, like asking for permission. He smiles, and leans to press a little kiss on his cheek, and then another one.<br/>
He feels his own heart on his throat.<br/>
<br/>
“Is this alright?” He whispers, a bit concerned.<br/>
<br/>
He nods. “Y- Yes.”<br/>
<br/>
He leans closer, grabs Harry’s face between his hands and stands on his tiptoes to kiss his forehead. Harry closes his eyes again and then, another kiss to his right eyelid, on his cheekbone, on the tip of his nose. His cheeks blushing as his face still remains ahold. He looks at him, studying his reaction, hypnotized by it.<br/>
<br/>
He gets closer and closer, and Harry feels his heart pulse racing too fast. His mouth ajar.<br/>
Louis presses another kiss on the left corner of his mouth.<br/>
And another one on the right.<br/>
<br/>
He stops to contemplate Harry’s lost gaze, kind of proud of how he’s making him feel.<br/>
<br/>
So Harry leans in and finally kisses him on the lips.<br/>
<br/>
And it’s something he has never felt before.<br/>
<br/>
He feels every cliché metaphor at the pit of his stomach: the butterflies, the fireworks, every flower of the world blossoming at the exact same time. Everything around him disappears at instant, he only feels Louis’ lips and warm hands touching him, making him dizzy. <br/>
<br/>
He quickly takes a step back. He looks scared.<br/>
<br/>
“Lou, it’s ok. We… we don’t have to do anything yet if you’re not ready. It’s alright.”<br/>
<br/>
He swallows and exhales. Harry notices his hands are shaking too. He shakes his head.<br/>
<br/>
“Fuck it.” <br/>
<br/>
He doesn’t even realize when suddenly Louis’ body is pressing against his, kissing him again, as his back slams to the door.<br/>
He whispers a small “sorry” as he continues to kiss him, gentle but demanding at the same time, while his hands hold Harry’s face again.<br/>
And its only Louis for a minute there, that’s all he feels, that’s all he wants to feel. It feels like like eating a fresh watermelon on a hot summer day, like driving through a tunnel with the windows open, like listening to your favorite album for the first time. It's like he hears violins, and trumpets. A whole fucking orchestra.<br/>
He grips his white shirt to pull him closer, and Louis’ hands run down his chest all the way through his waist.<br/>
Because apparently that’s his favorite spot.<br/>
Their chests clench together as they manage to walk to his room, never breaking the kiss. Louis hits his back against his door and they both chuckle. Blindly, Harry opens it and they walk inside, almost tripping.<br/>
He closes the door and pushes Louis to the bed, climbing on top of his lap like the night they wrestled for the notebook. They start kissing again, this time, allowing their mouths to meet properly. Harry feels himself wanting more, and more, and it’s like it’s never enough.<br/>
<br/>
Because now he thinks all those moments he wanted to do this before. Like in New Year’s, or when they were watching tv. Even those simple moments when Louis made him laugh. He’s been daydreaming so much about this moment he wants Louis to feel it too.<br/>
And he does, in a way.<br/>
He feels his breathing go heavy, his fingers running through his back all the way to the edge of his shirt. They meet his bare skin, as he pulls his shirt up enough to feel the cold of the room and scratches him smoothly. It gives him goosebumps.<br/>
Harry deepens the kiss even more and sucks Louis’ lower lip softly. He feels him moan quietly as he grips his hips and turns him around, now Harry’s back against the bed and Louis on top of him.<br/>
He stops for a second, short of breath.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey.” Louis whispers close to his lips.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey.” He smiles, pressing another kiss. And another.<br/>
<br/>
He moves and kisses his cheek, now running into his jaw and straight into his neck. His nose brushes against his skin and he feels his heavy breathing against it. He gives him a little bite that makes Harry groan softly, low on his throat. His hands now on Louis’ waist, lifting his shirt.<br/>
<br/>
So he whispers. “Can I…?”<br/>
<br/>
Louis sits still on Harry’s lap and before he gets to say anything, he takes off his own shirt, throwing it somewhere on the room. A proud smile drawing on his face. His cheeks and lips red.<br/>
Harry manages to sit and also takes his shirt, which makes him feel a little self-conscious. He’s not used to do this, at all, and he doesn’t even know where this is leading to. It’s not like he wants, or can, think about it.<br/>
Louis’ eyes take a look to Harry’s pale chest, examining his details. His fingers touching him, making him shiver.<br/>
<br/>
“So you do have four nipples.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry closes his eyes. “Shut up.”<br/>
<br/>
He leans in and starts pressing more kisses on his neck, shoulders and collarbones, as his chest touches his. Harry thinks about how imagining this moment before doesn’t even compare to the actual experience. Louis is in great shape. He’s absolutely handsome, so much it pains him that he waited so much to do this.<br/>
It’s worth it, though.<br/>
All of the anticipation.<br/>
Harry puts his arms around him, letting himself enjoy it. Enjoy Louis’ close presence. His sweet smell has him spellbound, his entire body irradiating heat. He feels him move occasionally on his lap and Harry can’t help but to feel desire burning through his chest. His pants start feeling tight, and he’s hoping Louis doesn’t notice, or care.<br/>
<br/>
Louis kisses him on the lips again and then starts to go down and kiss him lower and lower, on his ribs, his stomach, near his belly button.<br/>
He looks up for his expression.<br/>
<br/>
Harry feels himself panicking a bit. He’s never done anything sexual before, with anyone. He doesn’t know if this moment is the right one to do it, not when Gemma could arrive home any minute.<br/>
<br/>
And it’s like he predicted it, because he hears the front door opening.<br/>
<br/>
“Shit.” Louis grins as he picks Harry’s shirt from the floor and passes it to him.<br/>
<br/>
“Harry, we’re home!”<br/>
<br/>
And he’s seriously struggling to put the bloody shirt on.<br/>
<br/>
“I can’t find it.” Louis panics.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you there? Come and say hello, we’ve got visitors!”<br/>
<br/>
“Shit. Shit. Shit.”<br/>
<br/>
“Here.” Harry picks one of his shirts from the closet and throws it. Louis quickly puts it on.<br/>
<br/>
She knocks. “If you don’t leave your room right now we’ll drink everything and it’ll be only your fault.”<br/>
<br/>
And when he’s about to go out, he takes a quick look to his trousers.<br/>
And it looks like a fucking tent.<em><br/>
Bloody hell. </em><br/>
<br/>
Louis starts laughing, since he’s just standing next to the door. “What’s wrong?”<br/>
<br/>
And he turns. “I can’t get out.”<br/>
<br/>
He glances his trousers as well.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, no.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, yeah.”<br/>
<br/>
He kind of looks proud of himself.<br/>
<br/>
“Also, you’re a little...” He points at his cheeks. “Too blushed, I’d say. And your hair...”<br/>
<br/>
<em>There’s no way I’m leaving this room.<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Is Louis there with you?”<br/>
<br/>
“I can’t get out right now.” He tries his best to put a serious voice.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m fine, just… I’ll come in a minute.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis holds a laugh as he covers his mouth, Harry gives him a deadly stare.<br/>
<br/>
“It's your loss.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis has been smiling the entire time. He sits next to him on the bed, grinning back. “You’re such a dickhead.”<br/>
<br/>
He shakes his head. “Your shirt’s inside out.”<br/>
<br/>
And he’s right. Harry covers his face with his hands. “I’m a mess.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis leans to give him a kiss on his shoulder. He looks at him and kisses him again. It’s less intense than the other kisses but meaningful, nonetheless. Harry takes time to capture this memory, how Louis’ mouth feels sweet and warm against his, how his hand touches his cheek, as they go down to his jaw, to finally pose on the back of his head, gripping his curls. Bringing him closer, deepening the kiss even more.<br/>
He feels how he wants him too.<br/>
And it’s enough to dissipate any anxious thought.<br/>
<br/>
“I have to go home soon.”<br/>
<br/>
“How soon?”<br/>
<br/>
He looks at his clock. “Actually now, I have to wake up early tomorrow. We have the match.”<br/>
<br/>
“Can I go and cheer you up?”<br/>
<br/>
He smiles. “I thought it was not your thing.” And then, his expressions drop rather fast. “Besides, Eleanor is going.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry kind of forgot about her existence.<br/>
The thought of her snaps him back to reality, as he whispers a little “oh”.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey.” Louis looks to meet his eyes. His anxiety starts tingling on his fingertips. “No, no. Look at me. We’ll find a way, alright?”<br/>
<br/>
“I know. It’s just… not fair.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis hugs him, diving his face into Harry’s neck, taking a deep breath. His hugs usually are very recomforting, but now he can’t stop thinking about the future. About the mess he’s getting into, because he decided to. He decided to not ignore his feelings. How could he, anyway. He makes him feel alive, feel human.<br/>
Feel not so out-of-touch.<br/>
<br/>
“Just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it, but don’t let this be a one-time thing.”<br/>
<br/>
“Harry…”<br/>
<br/>
“I mean it, I’ll do anything.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis looks at him, guilt and sadness filling his eyes as he gives him little kisses all over his face. “You deserve better than that.”<br/>
<br/>
He shakes his head. “It’s not your say on it. What I deserve, what I want.” His voice sounds a little too tough, so he finishes with a softer tone. “I want <em>you</em>.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis smirks and touches the tip of his nose with his own. “I want you too.”<br/>
<br/>
He nods and leans his head on his shoulder. “That's enough for me.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry knows damn well he could spend the entire night snogging Louis, but this little moments of just having him close enough to kiss and touch makes him safe.<br/>
So he begs, he pleads to God if he exists, that this is not the last time. That Louis will stay. That this weekend is real and not a part of his imagination. That he will be gentle. That he won’t make him suffer unnecessarily, because he’s willing to stay. Even if he has a girlfriend –that he doesn’t even like but that’s not the point—and even if they have to hide to do this. Even if he has to wait for him. Even if the chance of them being together properly, publicly, feels too far in the future.<br/>
<br/>
He hopes he’s not making the wrong decision.<br/>
<br/>
And when Louis kisses him for the last time and leaves, he notices he left his jumper on the sofa. Gemma looks at him when he takes it, but she doesn’t say a thing.<br/>
<br/>
He sleeps hugging the jumper, trying to evoke the night they slept together.<br/>
He feels like the cheesiest man on the planet.<br/>
A lucky one, in effect.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>“But Harry, it’s always the homophobic dads.” Sarah frowns as she lays on the grass.<br/>
<br/>
“I know.”<br/>
<br/>
“Louis has to break up with her. I hate hating on girls but she kind of deserves it. I really dislike her.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know.”<br/>
<br/>
“And what was her cousin’s name? Emma?”<br/>
<br/>
“Ella.” He smirks.<br/>
<br/>
“She’s totally irrelevant. What does she win from this? Why can’t she mind her own business?”<br/>
<br/>
“I know.”<br/>
<br/>
Sarah sighs and looks at Mitch. Even though he hasn’t said a thing, he has the same concerned expression on his face. They look as if they were his parents and Harry just told them he’s failing maths. “I know you know all of this. But please, please, be careful. I’m not saying he doesn’t worth it. He probably does, but I don’t want you to get hurt unnecessarily.”<br/>
<br/>
“We can always spread the rumor that Ella is a lesbian.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry chuckles. “If I get hurt, I get hurt. That’s life, I guess, and I won't be spending years protecting myself from something that can be amazing. He is amazing.” <em>Ugh, too cheesy.</em><br/>
<br/>
“Seriously, what on earth does that boy have? And I don’t mean it in a bad way, it’s just… you’re so blindly willing to get hurt and you’re totally ok with that.”<br/>
<br/>
“You should bring him in to one of our gatherings.” Mitch nods and turns to Sarah. “Maybe we can decide there if we like him too, if he's in fact <em>amazing</em>.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, you should bring him to my place one day.”<br/>
<br/>
“He’s a massive Cocoa Puffs fan.”<br/>
<br/>
She smiles. “That’ll do. But I swear if he decides to be dumb and do something stupid…”<br/>
<br/>
“I can’t tell you he won’t.”<br/>
<br/>
He can’t, of course.<br/>
He knows something will go wrong eventually.<br/>
Is better to think about it and acknowledging it than pretending it won’t happen.<br/>
<br/>
When he goes to his locker to pick his books for the last class of the day, there’s a blue sticky note waiting to be read.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<strong><em>“7. Your place.”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</em></strong>His heart skips a beat. <br/>
And he just knows it’ll worth it. He’s worth it. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. "Parachutes"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>"my house of stone, your ivy grows,</i>
  <br/>
  <i>and now i'm covered in you"</i>
</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There's an album mentioned in this chapter that originally came out a year after 99', but I decided to use it anyways because it was necessary. Sorry, Coldplay!<br/>Again, thank you so much for reading this work. I'll be posting one chapter per week since I want to make them a little longer. Any updates will be posted on my twitter!<br/>(Which is @flaneuselou, by the way.)</p><p>Enjoy! And any feedback is well received. Love youuuu.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What is your favorite flower?”<br/>
<br/>
“Dandelions.”<br/>
<br/>
“Why?”<br/>
<br/>
“You can’t really buy them.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry nods. “Smart.”<br/>
<br/>
“Favorite fruit?”<br/>
<br/>
He scrunches his nose. “I can’t choose.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis rolls his eyes. “I know you can.”<br/>
<br/>
“Ok.” A beat. “Mangos. Also bananas. And strawberries. And-“<br/>
<br/>
“Alright, I got it. You can’t pick.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry giggles. “What’s your opinion on chocolate milk?”<br/>
<br/>
“I still drink it. I love it. First crush?”<br/>
<br/>
“Dead or alive?”<br/>
<br/>
“Alive.”<br/>
<br/>
“Famous or not famous?”<br/>
<br/>
“Famous.”<br/>
<br/>
“Damon Albarn. You?”<br/>
<br/>
“Mmh. I had this weird crush on Ian Brown like two, three years ago.”<br/>
<br/>
“Weird, but I get where it comes from though.”<br/>
<br/>
“How?”<br/>
<br/>
“He looks hot in purple.”<br/>
<br/>
“Definitely.” Louis nods.<br/>
<br/>
“When did you get that?” He points at his ankle.<br/>
<br/>
“My tattoo?”<br/>
<br/>
“No, your foot.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis laughs. “In April, I think.”<br/>
<br/>
“Why a triangle?”<br/>
<br/>
“Educate yourself.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis’ sudden sassiness shocks him for a solid second. “So you felt captivated enough by Mr. Turner’s geometry class?”<br/>
<br/>
“It definitely has nothing to do with geometry class, neither Mr. Turner. I just got it; it was the first thing that came to my mind.”<br/>
<br/>
“A triangle? I trusted your taste more than that.”<br/>
<br/>
“Are you criticizing it?”<br/>
<br/>
“I think it’s cute.”<br/>
<br/>
“You’re just jealous because you don’t have one.” He chuckles. “What’s your opinion on Clinton?”<br/>
<br/>
“He’s a wanker.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis nods in response. “Yeah, he is.”<br/>
<br/>
“What’s your opinion on war?” Harry asks, resting his head on his hand.<br/>
<br/>
“What kind?”<br/>
<br/>
“Any war.”<br/>
<br/>
“It makes me mad. I don’t understand why people have to fight other rich people’s fights.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry nods, as he eats a piece of his gypsy tart.<br/>
<br/>
“Do you like fish?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, I do. Especially with chips.”<br/>
<br/>
“Right? It’s the perfect Saturday meal.” Louis smiles, as Harry takes another bite. “Do you like it?”<br/>
<br/>
“The tart? Of course, I told you Mrs. Bailey makes the best ones in the city. I’m quite sure she told me once she was born in Kent, so...”<br/>
<br/>
“So you didn’t choose it only for the name?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry squints. “You’ve got to admit it’s an appealing name.”<br/>
<br/>
“Gypsy tart?”<br/>
<br/>
“Like that Fleetwood Mac song.”<br/>
<br/>
“Do you want to eat it while listening to it?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry looks at his old radio. A cd Mitch lent him is playing: “Today”, by Galaxie 500.<br/>
<br/>
“Nah, maybe next time. I’m really liking this album.”<br/>
<br/>
“Me too, it actually reminds me of your friends.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s definitely Mitch’s taste. Mostly instrumental. Quirky lyrics.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis nods; his smile still on his face. Sometimes, some cute crinkles decorate the surroundings of his eyes. He looks like the sun, but not the kind of sun that’s annoying. He’s like the sun on a cold autumn morning. <br/>
<br/>
“What’s your opinion on beetroot?”<br/>
<br/>
“Beetroot?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yep.”<br/>
<br/>
He frowns and shakes his head. “A crime to other vegetables. What’s your opinion on beans for breakfast?”<br/>
<br/>
“Horrible. I hate them.”<br/>
<br/>
“How can you be British and hate them?”<br/>
<br/>
“I just do. I used to be grandma’s biggest nightmare, if you know what I mean.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry giggles. A song called “Tugboat” starts to play and he pays attention to the lyrics. He loves when a song takes him by surprise.<br/>
<br/>
<em>(I don’t wanna stay at your party,<br/>
I don’t wanna talk with your friends,<br/>
I don’t wanna vote for your president,<br/>
I just wanna be your tugboat captain)</em><br/>
<br/>
“I love this one.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis is sitting in front of him, crossed-legged. Harry lays on the floor and puts his head on his lap, looking to the roof, as he plays with his curls and caresses his forehead. <br/>
<br/>
“Can you imagine yourself being a tugboat captain?”<br/>
<br/>
“Mmh.” Louis takes a quick glance to the window. “Maybe.”<br/>
<br/>
“And a firefighter?”<br/>
<br/>
“I have a bit of a hero complex, so yeah. Probably.”<br/>
<br/>
“Do you?”<br/>
<br/>
“I like to help people.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry stares to Louis features and from this angle, he looks funny. He’s probably got the cutest nose in all England.<br/>
<br/>
“That’s different from a hero complex. You’re just kind, that’s all.”<br/>
<br/>
“Do you think I’m kind?”<br/>
<br/>
“I think you’re brave.”<br/>
<br/>
“How so?”<br/>
<br/>
His eyes are bluer than the sky.<br/>
<br/>
“Your existence. You… I don’t know. It’s just-“ He stops and grins. “Sorry, I wanted to say something nice and I completely lost my point.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis kisses the tip of his nose. “Thank you.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s your turn, ask me something.”<br/>
<br/>
“Alright. If you have to choose between being Camila or the Queen for a day, who would you choose?”<br/>
<br/>
“Is neither an answer?”<br/>
<br/>
“Nope.”<br/>
<br/>
“Ok, then I’d choose the Queen. Imagine the Sex Pistols writing a song about you.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis laughs. “Have you ever heard- oh, also The Smiths!”<br/>
<br/>
He laughs too. “Apparently artists are not too fond of the Queen.”<br/>
<br/>
“No, they’re not. Are you?”<br/>
<br/>
“Did I tell you about that time I cried for two days straight when Lady Di died?”<br/>
<br/>
“No, you didn’t.” He puts a curl behind his ear.<br/>
<br/>
“Well, I won’t cry if the Queen dies. The only Queen I worship is the band.”<br/>
<br/>
“When do you think it’ll happen?”<br/>
<br/>
“Her death?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah.”<br/>
<br/>
“Any time, now.”<br/>
<br/>
“Come on, bet on a date.”<br/>
<br/>
“Mmh, I’d say… 2004?”<br/>
<br/>
“Why 2004?”<br/>
<br/>
“No idea.”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t think she’ll leave us that soon.”<br/>
<br/>
He presses his lips. “Me neither. 2014 is my final bet.”<br/>
<br/>
The cd finishes, and Harry stands up to play another one. Louis also stands up and searches for something on his bag, and when Harry puts his “Strangeways, Here We Come” cassette, he has his hands behind his back.<br/>
<br/>
“What are you doing?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’ve got you something.”<br/>
<br/>
He quickly shakes his head. “But I didn’t do anything!”<br/>
<br/>
“Just shut up and receive it, alright? Close your eyes.”<br/>
<br/>
He puts his hands in front and shuts his eyes. This kind of things makes him anxious. He feels cold squared plastic, a cassette.<br/>
It’s “13”, by Blur. Their latest album.<br/>
<br/>
“I saw it when I went to my job interview and I thought you’d like it.”<br/>
<br/>
“I love it.” He has a huge smile on his face. “But you have to stop spoiling me.”<br/>
<br/>
“Should we listen to it now?”<br/>
<br/>
“And interrupt Morrissey? Of course!”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
And that’s what they do, pretty much every day they can.<br/>
<br/>
They usually meet at 7, hang on Harry’s room, listen to music, ask each other random stuff and snog. A lot.<br/>
A lot, a lot.<br/>
He just can’t put into words how does it feel to feel him so close, to be able to kiss him. It’s a completely new experience that only manages to get better and better.<br/>
Because it’s not awkward like he thought it could be, but the contrary. It's all butterflies and goosebumps here.<br/>
<br/>
But also, sometimes, those kisses would turn in an attempt of something else.<br/>
It started with the little kisses on the neck.<br/>
Then, his hands.<br/>
The first time Louis put one of his hands on his knee, though, he felt nervous; the memory of his last experience with Lily came up like a lightning through his spine. His entire body stiffened at contact. Louis noticed and stopped immediately, which made Harry feel better, but frustrated at the same time. <em>This isn’t supposed to happen, not with him. </em><br/>
But it just happens to work different for people.<br/>
<br/>
One thing that Harry admires lots from Louis is how even if they did<em> something</em>  -which wasn't more than passionate, lustful kisses, but still- or talked about the deep stuff, he doesn’t take his trust or consent for granted. Hence the day that he decided to change clothes in his bathroom even after he almost got naked drunk in front of him.<br/>
He’s that kind of person. A person he feels he can genuinely trust. <br/>
<br/>
So he told him about Lily, that day. How he forced himself to try to date her –because of the rumors at school-, how he awkwardly kissed her and that she touched him above his pants in public. How awful and uncomfortable it made him feel, how used. And, obviously, the things she told him. How that resulted on a panic attack, that eventually lead to more low-flying panic attacks and constant anxiety.<br/>
He knows that’s not the only reason he’s constantly anxious, but it definitely contributed to the list-of-things-that-keep-him-from-being-a-functional-human-being.<br/>
<br/>
And Louis was incredibly understanding. It was natural for him, to be so wise when it came to those things. So much he would believe him an old soul too –or maybe, the fact that he grew up with sisters gave him enough wisdom, which is fair–.<br/>
For a couple of days, Harry was afraid that the story pushed Louis away, that he might got the wrong impression, that he was not willing to do anything else with him besides kissing. Because when they did, he always measured himself. <br/>
Harry could tell sometimes he wanted to do more than kissing, but he’s just so considerate that he waits. And waits. He could see how blushed he ended up after their make-out sessions, how his hands wanted to touch his waist or thighs but he stuck to shoulders, neck and face. How he quietly fixed his pants before going home.<br/>
<br/>
But Harry wanted to go slow, and Louis was totally ok with that.<br/>
So every moment that he gets to know him a bit, he feels more and more attracted to him.<br/>
<br/>
And it’s scary.</p><p>Not only because of it but because they were also absolutely cheesy with each other.<br/>
After Harry’s little note with the lyric, Louis started leaving notes on his locker as well. He wondered how he’d do it without getting caught. It was like having a separate conversation since neither of them addressed anything about the notes. It just happened; it was nice looking up to his answers and to try to look for the song he’d quote.<br/>
<br/>
The first one was simple, straightforward:<br/>
<br/>
<strong><em>“I dream of you and all the things you say” </em></strong><br/>
<br/>
Because of course it had to be an Oasis’ song. He smiled the entire day.<br/>
So Harry responded with:<br/>
<br/>
<strong><em>“Sweet, wonderful you<br/>
You make me happy with the things you do”<br/>
<br/>
</em></strong><em>Ugh, maybe it was too much<br/>
</em>The next day, Louis answer was:<br/>
<br/>
<strong><em>“You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be.”<br/>
<br/>
</em></strong>Harry is quite sure he has heard that lyric somewhere, maybe in the radio.<br/>
<br/>
<strong><em>“Fifteen minutes with Lou </em></strong>–he decided last minute to change you for “Lou”–<strong><em><br/>
Oh, I wouldn't say no”</em></strong><br/>
<br/>
And Louis left him a yellow note:<br/>
<br/>
<strong><em>“Whenever I’m alone with you,<br/>
you make me feel like I’m home again”<br/>
<br/>
</em></strong>The Cure is a solid band. Intimidating to say the least.<br/>
So he decides to quote The Beatles:<strong><em><br/>
</em></strong><br/>
<strong><em>“Will I wait a lonely lifetime<br/>
If you want me to, I will”<br/>
<br/>
</em></strong>And he didn’t answer for a day. They didn’t hang out because he had practice, which made Harry feel anxious.<br/>
So after that, he found a green sticky note on the side of his locker. Almost hiding.<br/>
<br/>
<strong><em>“We’ll find a way of chasing the sun.”</em></strong><br/>
<br/>
<em>Oh. </em><br/>
<br/>
<strong><em>“All I want to see is your smile,<br/>
If it takes a little while”<br/>
<br/>
</em></strong>And there was no answer, again, until next Monday.<br/>
<br/>
<strong><em>“I don’t believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now.” </em></strong><br/>
<br/>
Deep down, Harry has always wanted someone to relate Wonderwall to him. In his opinion, it’s one of the best love songs from the 90’s.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>“Wouldn't it be nice if we were older<br/>
then we wouldn't have to wait so long?<br/>
<br/>
And wouldn't it be nice to live together<br/>
in the kind of world where we belong?</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>You know it's gonna make it that much better<br/>
when we can say goodnight and stay together” </em> </strong>
</p><p><br/>
There. That’s just, precise. That day he saw Eleanor outside after school, and Louis hugged her.<br/>
So Harry ate an entire pint of ice cream watching the telly, really questioning if he’ll ever be strong enough for it to don’t hurt him. It’s hard, seeing Louis with other people. People that he doesn’t even like.<br/>
<br/>
Next day, Louis responds back with an entire song:</p><p><br/>
<strong> <em>“I'd like to walk around in your mind someday<br/>
I'd like to walk all over the things you say to me</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>I'd like to run and jump on your solitude<br/>
I'd like to rearrange your latitude to me</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>You say you just want peace and you'd never hurt anyone<br/>
You see the end before the beginning has ever begun</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>I would disturb your easy tranquility<br/>
I'd turn away the sad impossibility of your smile</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>I'd sit there in the sun of the things I like about you<br/>
I'd sing my songs and find out just what they mean to you</em> </strong>
</p><p><strong><em>But most of all I'd like you to be unaware<br/>
And I'd just wander away<br/>
Trailing palm leaves behind me,<br/>
So you don't even know that I've been there”<br/>
</em></strong><em><br/>
</em>He tried to look for the song but it was completely unknown. So much he thought Louis wrote it himself. <strong><br/>
</strong>Which is enough, again.<br/>
And so they kept going.<br/>
Harry has every note saved on a little blue box on his desk, he reads them when he feels lonely or insecure about Louis’ feelings towards him.<br/>
Because it reminds him that he, in fact, has feelings for him.<br/>
And it’s heartwarming.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Let me see!” Sarah snatches the cassette from his hands. She observes it, looks at Harry, and gasps. “You lucky bastard.”<br/>
<br/>
“Is it authentic?” Mitch also looks at it.<br/>
<br/>
“As authentic as Mel C’ biceps.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry chuckles. “It’s just a gift.”<br/>
<br/>
“A hell of a gift, I’d say.” She gives him the cassette back as she starts to stretch. Her drumsticks by her side. “Was that..?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, he gave it to me yesterday.” And he has the dorkiest smile on his face.<br/>
<br/>
“Ugh, you’re so… cheesy.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s just a cassette.”<br/>
<br/>
“You know nobody buys cassettes now, right? He bought it because he knew you like them.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry sits on the amplifier. “I don’t know. I’m trying to keep my expectations low.”<br/>
<br/>
Mitch starts to tune his guitar. “You know you’re making an awful job of it, right?”<br/>
<br/>
He frowns. “Why?”<br/>
<br/>
“Harry, whenever you talk about him you look like you were talking about Dicaprio or something.”<br/>
<br/>
“Or like you were dating Dicaprio.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry shakes his head. “Things are really good between us, that’s all.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh… Really good, eh? How good would you say?”<br/>
<br/>
As Harry squints his eyes, Niall walks in with his guitar.<br/>
<br/>
“Sorry lads, I forgot they changed us to this room.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, it sucks. The acoustic is horrible.” Mitch mumbles.<br/>
<br/>
“I thought it’d be good to talk about Friday, that we could plan how it’ll go down.”<br/>
<br/>
“What date is Friday?”<br/>
<br/>
“June 4<sup>th</sup>. We’ll have twenty minutes to make a proper impression.” Sarah looks like the coolest band manager right now.<br/>
<br/>
“Only twenty?” Niall tunes his guitar as well.<br/>
<br/>
“Yep, I tried to convince him to give us thirty but he said we’re too new for that. So-“ She grabs a little notebook from her bag. “Let’s make those 4 songs count.”<br/>
<br/>
They discussed for an hour which song would suit the place. Mitch wanted to play one with a strong solo to attract people easily. Harry and Niall wanted to play something energetic with strong lyrics. They even debate on if they should play a cover or not. According to Sarah, it’ll confuse the public to what they actually play; according to Mitch, it’ll show their skills.<br/>
What Harry likes the most about his band is that no one is obsessively obstinate with their opinions, every suggestion is considered –obviously, Sarah’s opinions are the ones they consider the most since she has lots of experience— which works and is fair to everyone.<br/>
<br/>
They decide to play 3 songs. They’ll start with an introductory instrumental so Mitch can show off his skills, then cover “Song 2” to keep the crowd engaged, next they’ll play this song Niall composed a few weeks ago –which is heavily inspired by a certain blonde girl—to finally end with a freshly composed song by Harry and Mitch. It’s an energetic rock song. It’ll do.<br/>
<br/>
The rehearsal sounds good, but he still has trouble on letting himself into it completely. He focusses too much on his voice.<br/>
<br/>
“Oi, c’mere.” Sarah is fixing her stuff to leave. He walks and she puts a hand on his shoulder. “I know you’re nervous, but please stop doubting yourself that much. Your voice is fine, you have a good range. I want you to be your truest self on Friday, alright? I see you.” She bops his nose. “You can be Freddie fucking Mercury up there if you want to.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry has never felt luckier to count on people like Sarah, and Mitch, and even Niall when he’s not too head-over-heels for Jane. Who's. by the way, waiting for him outside.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you doing something now?”<br/>
<br/>
“Do you have something in mind?”<br/>
<br/>
“I texted Liam and he said they just finished practice. We’re going for pizza, wanna come?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry tries to play it cool. “With the boys you mean…”<br/>
<br/>
“Liam and Lou.”<br/>
<br/>
He doesn’t know what he is supposed to do, since all they’ve been doing is ignoring each other’s existence in public. He’s not ready for such closeness right now.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t know, Niall. I’m a bit tired, so…”<br/>
<br/>
“Ah, come on. I thought you and Louis were ok by now.”<br/>
<br/>
He nods. “Kind of?”<br/>
<br/>
“Then don’t be boring and get in the car.”<br/>
<br/>
And just like that, he’s waiting for them in the front seat. Niall plays a cd from the Red Hot Chili Peppers, “One Hot Minute”. It’s not his personal favorite, but it helps him to understand Niall’s current taste a bit.<br/>
Which, for his surprise, is not entirely his taste.<br/>
<br/>
“This one is actually from Louis. He lent it to me like two months ago. I hope he doesn’t care.” He giggles.<br/>
<br/>
He looks at him. He's so confident about himself right now which is nowhere near the laid-back-often-chatty-like-a-golden-retriever Niall he used to know. And <em>it's alright, I guess.</em> Some glimpses of him come back sometimes, though, like when this song called "Pea" started to play and they cackled at the bold "Fuck you asshole, you homophobic redneck dick" lyric. Niall tells him it could be his perfect mantra for school. <br/>
And it's moments like that when he feels how much he misses him.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, here they come.”<br/>
<br/>
He feels the trunk opening up as the boys talk as loud as ever. Liam is talking about some “wanker that doesn’t know how to play right”, on which Louis agrees.<br/>
<br/>
“He lost possession every single time, the poor lad.”<br/>
<br/>
“Not poor, he was lazy. I hate it when he doesn’t care enough just to play it as cool. And I’m not talking about the bloody match, I’m talking when you decide to be a fucking moron to your mates and let them deal with the whole thing.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry tried to hide on his seat, even if he knew it was completely stupid. He just hasn’t figured a way to say hi to Louis in front of people without blushing or being too weird about it. We’re talking about the same boy who's been actively flirting and kissing him for almost two entire weeks. The boy who secretly puts lyrics from love songs on his locker.<br/>
The same boy who, for their knowledge, is not even his friend.<br/>
<br/>
“How bad was it?”<br/>
<br/>
“Horrible, Niall. I’m starting to lose hope in this generation. We're doing worse than the Doncaster Rovers in 97', and that was fucking awful.”<br/>
<br/>
This sick, funky song starts to play and Harry’s dying to ask its name.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you hungry?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m up for a burger right now. I’m not in the mood for pizza.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, me too.”<br/>
<br/>
“Burgers it is, then.” Niall starts to drive, glancing Harry. “We have a guest, by the way.”<br/>
<br/>
Liam sticks his head to the front seat. “Hey! I didn’t see you there.”<br/>
<br/>
He presses his lips. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”<br/>
<br/>
“Please, it was just stupid ranting. How are you, Hazza?”<br/>
<br/>
He could see by the rear view how Louis’ face dropped, more confused than upset.<br/>
<br/>
“M'alright.”<br/>
<br/>
Liam visibly waits for him to develop his answer, but Harry just looks at the window, trying to calm himself down. To play it cool. Sometimes he would glance Louis lip-synching to the songs, lost in the Red Hot's catchy songs. He looks adorable, as usual. <br/>
He thinks of random things to avoid his nervousness; <em>trains are just horizontal elevators, the oldest person in the planet has lived through everyone else’s birthdays, ketchup is basically a smoothie. </em>Thoughts he doesn’t say out loud. He calls them “shower thoughts”.<br/>
He always discovers new things, which is enough to distract him ‘til they get to the parking lot.<br/>
<br/>
Louis’ hair is wet. He’s wearing a white shirt with a red flannel and some jeans. His lips are more red than usual.<br/>
They walk into McDonald’s and it’s not as full as other days; Harry decides to order a Vegetable Deluxe with some chips and a cup of tea. He can glance Louis pressing his lips, hiding a smile. When Liam leaves to buy food, Niall starts talking to him about some ideas he’s got for Friday.<br/>
<br/>
“Maybe we could ask them about the lights.”<br/>
<br/>
“Why are you concerned about the light?”<br/>
<br/>
“It is important. We want to look good, innit?”<br/>
<br/>
Louis has a cheeky stare. “What for?”<br/>
<br/>
“Friday. We’re doing our very first presentation.”<br/>
<br/>
He glances Harry. “Oh, interesting. Is it open for the public?”<br/>
<br/>
“You should definitely go, can come in for free.”<br/>
<br/>
Because clearly Harry didn’t realize there was the chance he could go. Of course he would want to go.<br/>
And it’s a weird feeling.<br/>
<br/>
“I might. I liked Berlin last time so I’ll probably go, you know. Maybe have some pints.”<br/>
<br/>
“Liam should also go. I’ll tell everyone.”<br/>
<br/>
“Go where?” He arrives with his food, sitting next to Louis.<br/>
<br/>
“We’re playing at Berlin on Friday.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, that’s sick. Congrats!”<br/>
<br/>
“It's not a big deal, anything could go wrong.” Harry shrugs, smiling nervously.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, shut up. We’ve been working ridiculously hard lately. Unless you decide to fuck it up, we’ll fuck it up.”<br/>
<br/>
He giggles. “Nice, mate. No pressure.”<br/>
<br/>
“You’re singing?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah.”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sing.” Liam tilts his head. “I thought you were playing the bass or something.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well, I do sing.” He tries not to sound too conceited. “Good or bad, that’s totally debatable. But I do.”<br/>
<br/>
“Are you going, Lou? On Friday?”<br/>
<br/>
“Probably.” He sips his Coke. “It depends.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh?”<br/>
<br/>
“I have plans early.”<br/>
<br/>
Liam nods. “How’s El, by the way?”<br/>
<br/>
“She’s fine. She’s doing good at uni, but we haven’t seen each other that much lately. You know, it can be demanding.” He says without stuttering.<br/>
<br/>
“I bet you miss her, eh?” Liam smirks.<br/>
<br/>
“Lots.” He presses his lips, not meeting Harry’s eyes.<br/>
<br/>
Whenever Harry thinks about him with Eleanor, he feels sick to his stomach. Jealousy tastes bitter on his mouth. He’s never been the jealous type, but there’s something about Louis dating someone forcedly that makes him feel all the weight of the world on his shoulders.<br/>
They talk about football matches and gossip about their own group, which obviously makes him feel a little left out. It’s weird. When he’s with Mitch and Sarah, they talk about things of his interest, things that care; this time he’s definitely not interested on who-snogged-who-on-that-party, so he focusses on his tasty burger, sometimes feeling Louis’ eyes on him. Like a puppy.<br/>
It also feels off interacting with them, especially with Louis, on public. He often thinks on how everything feels simpler when they’re alone in his room. <br/>
When they’re out, they treat other people differently. Louis is very chatty, makes constant jokes or mocks people if they mess up with some word. Harry just nods and smiles. Nods and smiles. Sometimes he would comment something or give an enthusiast “mhm” when necessary.</p><p>Now he feels like a robot.<br/>
<br/>
He feels disconnected on his way back home, gets lost on the radio’s singles. Still without shaking the previous thoughts and feelings from before.<br/>
Watching Liam talk is amusing, though. He’s very expressive and makes dad jokes, just like him, but somehow he makes them actually funny. Harry reminds himself to interact more with Liam, as he's always so happy to see him –for, reasons?--.</p><p><br/>
They park outside the lobby.<br/>
“Don’t forget we’re doing another rehearsal tomorrow.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry nods as he leaves the car. “Thank you for inviting me.”<br/>
<br/>
“You should hang out with us more!” Liam stretches in the back.<br/>
<br/>
“He’s too busy with his goth friends.” Niall pouts, and then starts driving.<br/>
<br/>
And again, it’s just him and Louis.<br/>
Him and Louis.<br/>
But Harry feels too strange to say something.<br/>
<br/>
When they’re on the lift, Louis can’t stop looking at him.<br/>
<br/>
“Is everything alright?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry shakes his head and whispers. “I don't know.”<br/>
<br/>
Without hesitation, he hugs him. “Do you wanna talk about it?”<br/>
<br/>
He shakes his head again. “I think I just wanna go home.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis gives him little kisses on his face as they arrive to his floor.<br/>
<br/>
“Do you want me to go with you?”<br/>
<br/>
He sighs. “Nah, you should rest, you had a long day.”<br/>
<br/>
“You sure? I mean, it’s not a big deal for me.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yep.” He kisses his forehead. “I could use to see you tomorrow, though.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis smiles. “7 it is.”<br/>
<br/>
And he goes home, leaving a muddled Harry behind.<br/>
When he opens his door, he hears Anne talking on the phone. He drops his bag on the sofa and goes to her room. She’s painting her nails while she’s telling a story about someone from work. Harry takes his shoes and leaves them next to the bed, as he lays on the bed next to her. She’s so concentrated on her conversation that when he leans his head on her shoulder, she barely notices.<br/>
<br/>
She hangs and closes her nail polish. “Hey. How was your day?”<br/>
<br/>
“Is life always this full of feelings?”<br/>
<br/>
She chuckles as she lays her head on his head too. “Care to elaborate?”<br/>
<br/>
“If I cared to elaborate you would have me here for three hours.”<br/>
<br/>
“I have three hours. Go on.”<br/>
<br/>
He sighs. “Alright. Ok. I’m scared about my future; I don’t know if I’m good enough to be successful or to live from music. I’m scared that I’m growing up too fast. I’m scared that I’m losing my friend as we get older. I’m scared of the world and its people. I’m scared of making the wrong decisions. I’m scared to never be able to be more than this… this introvert version of myself. I’m scared of death, any death in particular. I don’t like my body sometimes even though I know I’m ok, that I don’t have nothing to complain about. I can’t stop comparing myself to other people. I’m scared to open up because I feel too much and it’s exhausting. I’m scared of falling for the wrong person and that they won’t be brave enough to want me too. I’m-“<br/>
<br/>
He takes a deep breath. It’s relieving to put every feeling into words.<br/>
<br/>
“I miss dad. I miss him so much. I don’t understand what I did for him to stop calling. I’m scared that you don’t want to move with Robin because of us. Because of me.”<br/>
<br/>
“Come here.” Harry lays his head on her lap. “I know it’s a lot right now. It feels like a lot. To be realistic there’s nothing I can say to fix it all, but I can talk from experience. Every feeling you’re feeling is a part of being as young as you are. That doesn’t make it less valid, but the contrary. Feeling makes you human, and that’s why you’re so special. Because this planet is turning itself into this senseless habitat for the future. I think it’s so brave to be able to do anything you want in life. Absolutely anything. And if it goes wrong, we keep trying. And if we love someone and they don’t love us back, it’s ok too. It means that’s not our path, that’s not what life has for us right now.<br/>
You deserve so much, my dear. Even a better father. A father that cares.”<br/>
<br/>
“I just want closure.”<br/>
<br/>
“You should have it, it's what you deserve.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry closes his eyes. “Do you love me? In spite of everything?”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t be silly, there’s no "in spite of". Of course I love you.”<br/>
<br/>
And he sits. If there’s a moment to do this is now.<br/>
<br/>
“Even if I didn’t like girls?”<br/>
<br/>
She also takes a deep breath, and smiles. “Harry, I’m your mum. It’s not like I don’t know my own baby.”</p><p>He shakes his head and sighs. “So you know.”<br/>
<br/>
“This person that you told me about before, is it Louis?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry nods in response. “Am I that obvious?”<br/>
<br/>
“He’s the only one that comes over, you bring him home almost every day and you lock the door. You don’t lock the door with Niall, or nobody I’ve ever known from your friends. You blush every time Gemma mentions his name. Yes, you’re obvious.” She giggles.</p><p>“I don’t what to tell you, it’s not like I tried not to be.” He looks at his hands, they feel kinda sweaty. “I’m so tired to pretend we’re not close that being here with him feels liberating.”<br/>
<br/>
“How so?”<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>So he tells her, too. About how they connected the first time they knew each other, like if they already knew before, maybe even from past lives. How he makes him feel like no one else exists in the world when they’re together. How they have to pretend they don’t talk to each other on public because his girlfriend could potentially expose him with his homophobic dad and probably the rest of the school. How it hurts from time to time.<br/>
<br/>
She puts a curl behind his ear. “Is it worth it? All the trouble?”<br/>
<br/>
“Sometimes I genuinely think it is, when I’m with him. But then I don’t know, like… a future of not being able to be together freely makes me feel a bit hopeless. And I’ve tried to stay away from him, but somehow the universe keeps bringing us together. Like magnets.”<br/>
<br/>
“Everything happens for a reason, love. Maybe Louis is meant to teach you something. People don’t come and stay in our lives for no reason, and I highly doubt that him living in this building and going to your school is purely a coincidence. Maybe his presence is a lesson, and we have to always be thankful for those lessons. And to take care of ourselves.” She looks at him, her green eyes in complete honesty. “If it’s doing you worse than good, it’s not worth it. If he makes you feel nice, cared about, if he’s what you feel you need right now, then it is. Us mortals we don’t find that kind of special people at such a young age and I wish-“ She kind of gets emotional. “I wish I would’ve brought you to a better world, a world that wasn’t too nosy, too judgmental. There’s no way to predict what will happen, so trust your gut. You're only eighteen once, you can make mistakes, but take one step at a time if necessary, alright? Only time will tell you if it really worth it.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry hugs her, and quietly reminds himself to thank the universe for the wise mom he was granted with.<br/>
All those fears and sensations from before stay still, but it feels better when they’re spoken out loud. Even better if you have someone that listens, that cares. Most people of their age have a horrible relationship with their parents. He might not have a present dad, but he has a hero as a mom. And that’s enough.<br/>
They watch the telly together and laugh at some random show. For that instant, he doesn’t think about nothing else; he just enjoys the moment.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
At 10 p.m, he decides to take a quick shower before going to bed.<br/>
<br/>
He grabs a cd, detaining himself to look its cover. This one’s a gift from Gemma, she gave him it on his birthday and never really gave it a listen. It’s called “Parachutes”, from a new band called Coldplay. His sister told him they opened for a band she went to see and she loved them.<br/>
The first song is called “Don’t Panic”, and he loves it immediately.<br/>
<br/>
He puts some pajama pants and no underwear, since he doesn’t feel like wearing too many clothes tonight. He wants to sleep early, so he grabs a magazine which is also Gemma’s and immerse himself in “35 pages of inspirational interiors”, daydreaming a bit about how he would décor his future home.<br/>
<br/>
When a song called “Sparks” starts to play, he feels a little sleepy. He lays looking at the ceiling, his hair still wet. Coldplay feels like drinking tea with milk but pouring two spoons of sugar as well.<br/>
He feels like he left every trouble and concerns outside his bedroom door.<br/>
<br/>
Someone knocks his door.<br/>
<br/>
<em>What now? </em><br/>
<br/>
“Yeah?”<br/>
<br/>
“Are you awake?” Gemma asks.<br/>
<br/>
“No?”<br/>
<br/>
She opens. “You have a late visitor. I tried to kick him out but he forced himself in.” She has a cheeky smile. “Is that my album?”<br/>
<br/>
“Who is it?”<br/>
<br/>
“I knew you would like it.”<br/>
<br/>
“Gem, who is it?”<br/>
<br/>
She opens the door even more, revealing a blushed Louis looking at the floor. Harry jumps out of his bed.<br/>
<br/>
“I’ll leave you to it, but he has to go before 11:30. It’s school night.”<br/>
<br/>
He nods as Louis presses his lips. He walks in and Harry shuts the door, locking it (obviously).<br/>
<br/>
“What’s this?” He tilts his head.<br/>
<br/>
“Cold-something. Is everything ok?” He’s anxious for some reason.<br/>
<br/>
He titters. “Yeah, yeah. I just couldn't wait ‘til tomorrow. You looked so stressed I just wanted to check you were alright.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>He can’t be real; he literally just can’t be real. </em>“You could’ve called.” <em>And this is how I fuck it up.</em><br/>
<br/>
“I know.” He smirks.<br/>
<br/>
“I feel better now.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m glad, I’m glad.” He looks to the floor, again. A beat, and then he meets his eyes. “So I better go, then.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry walks towards him. “You can always stay.”<br/>
<br/>
“But you’re feeling better already.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry squints his eyes. The record playing on the background switching mood between songs, almost like a soundtrack of their moment. “Maybe I don’t feel that well. I could use a little cuddle.”<br/>
<br/>
He smiles and takes off his shoes, as Harry leads him to his bed. Louis leans on his back and puts an arm around him. Harry lays his head on his chest, like the first morning they woke up together.<br/>
He feels him breathing, his chest going up and down, while they listen to the rest of the album in silence. It’s impressive how he just manages to make everything better. It's enough to dissipate for a while his inner doubts.<br/>
Sometimes, he would press more little kisses on his head, playing with his curls.<br/>
Moments like that make him feel like they’ve done this for years.<br/>
<br/>
Last song from said album sweetening the ambient.<br/>
<br/>
“Lou?”<br/>
<br/>
“Mhm?” His eyes fixed on the ceiling.<br/>
<br/>
“If I were a woman, would you think things would be different?”<br/>
<br/>
He thinks for a bit. “I don’t really know. I don’t know if I’d feel the same if you were a woman.”<br/>
<br/>
“Lou?”<br/>
<br/>
“Mhm?”<br/>
<br/>
“Do you like me?”<br/>
<br/>
They meet glances at the same time, almost as if it was planned out. Louis cups his cheek and smiles, kissing him gently on the lips. It feels like those often vivid dreams he has about Louis; about the way he pours so much comfort and safety on his kisses. How no word is needed, only his touch, only his presence to make him feel things are ok. <br/>
Harry catches up rather quickly, he kisses him back and feels those cliché-butterflies fluttering on his stomach.<br/>
And even though the previous question stays unanswered, he enjoys it. He could do this for the rest of his life. Just cuddling and snogging this beautiful human listening to a song that, for his surprise, resumes in a few words how he’s feeling.<br/>
<br/>
<em>“So I want to live in a wooden house<br/>
where making more friends would be easy<br/>
Oh and I don’t have a soul to save<br/>
Yes and I sin every day<br/>
We never change, do we?<br/>
We never learn, do we?<br/>
(…)<br/>
I want to live where the sun comes out”<br/>
<br/>
</em>He decides to save this memory like a photograph.<br/>
The album was perfect.<br/>
<em>So is Louis.</em><br/>
He lifts and leans on his elbow, facing him.<br/>
<br/>
“I need to pick another album.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis chuckles and grips his shirt, bringing him closer, kissing him again. “Do you have to do it now?”</p><p>“Unless you want my mum hearing us, yes. I do.” He stands and starts looking into his cassettes, looking for the right one to fit. He turns to Louis and he looks so needy, it’s fascinating. “I am really in the mood for Leisure.”<br/>
<br/>
“You’re always in the mood for Leisure.”<br/>
<br/>
“Can I?”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s fine by me, but it feels like I’m cheating on Noel lately.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry puts the cassette on and, with a cheeky smile, sits on Louis’ lap with his knees on each side of his body. He feels oddly in control, being on top of him.<br/>
“She’s So High” starts to play and they just stare at each other. Nothing else. His needy-soft look from before turning into a playful one.<br/>
He doesn’t understand sometimes the dynamics of this little moments between them, where they just look at each other as if they were paintings in a gallery. He’s not complaining, though.<br/>
Louis’ smile turns cheeky. He moves up and sits, with Harry still on his lap, this time their faces almost at the same height.<br/>
They were in a similar position the first time they kissed, Harry recalls, but now they don’t feel the same anxious adrenaline because someone could get in any minute.<br/>
Now it’s just them, and they have all the time in the world.<br/>
<br/>
Louis pulls him and kisses him again, opening his mouth and allowing Harry closer <em>—</em><em>He tastes so sweet— </em>and he can feel how its intention has changed. It’s not an I-fancy-you type of kiss. It’s an I-want-you.<br/>
Harry holds his face to feel him, his blushed cheeks on his palms. After a couple minutes, he decides to give him a little bite on his lower lip. He hums, as he moves his hands slowly to his waist.<br/>
<em>Oh, shit. </em><br/>
So as a response, Harry leads his hands to his hips.<br/>
<br/>
“Is this ok?” He asks between kisses and Louis nods enthusiastically. His fingers gripping on the edge of his pants.<br/>
And his heart skips a beat, because he feels Louis slowly growing hard underneath him.<br/>
<em>Oooh, shit. </em><br/>
So he decides to encourage him.<br/>
He starts grinding, slow, as he tries to read Louis’ reaction. He raises an eyebrow, breaking the kiss to sigh. It feels amazingly good. Louis accentuates his grip, his mouth forming a little “o”.<br/>
He lets go of his hips and holds his face again, pressing little kisses on his lips and cheeks.<br/>
<br/>
“I- Oh, I like you.” He breathes against his lips. “I like you so much.” And kisses him over and over. “I like you so, so much.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry takes a moment to look at him. His cheeks utterly blushed, his lips wet, his hair as messy as usual. <em>I could die a happy man.</em> He gives him a grin and whispers to his ear. “I like you more, you fool.”<br/>
<br/>
And they get back at it again. They tongue-kiss and Harry’s hips keep moving in irregular circles, making Louis groan in response. It’s a new feeling, but he’s definitely not complaining. He could easily get used to hear Louis like that, to him showing how much he wants him too.<br/>
His hands move to the edge of Louis’ shirt and, without hesitating for any kind of permission, he takes it off. His cold touch contrasting his warm skin, as he runs his fingers through his chest.<br/>
<br/>
And Louis giggles.<br/>
<br/>
“What?” Harry smiles.<br/>
<br/>
“It gives me tickles.” His eyes crinkle as he grins back.<br/>
<br/>
So he starts tickling him properly, and he laughs. A melodic laugh that makes Harry’s heart melt. Louis starts tickling back, playfully staring into his eyes.<br/>
Somehow Harry ends up laying down, with him laying on his side, leaning on his elbow.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re so beautiful.” Louis brushes his nose on his cheek.<br/>
He titters, like, he’s not used to hear those words directed towards him. Louis’ soft voice makes him feel a tingle on the pit of his stomach.<br/>
He starts pressing more kisses as he moves to his jaw, going down his neck. Harry just stays there, enjoying the feeling.<br/>
And Louis starts moving his hand again, this time directing to his lower belly.<br/>
 <br/>
“Lou.”<br/>
<br/>
“Mhm?” He keeps moving, closer and closer.<br/>
<br/>
“Lou.”<br/>
<br/>
His hand pose under his shirt, his fingers making little circles.<br/>
<br/>
“Mhm?”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Fuck going slow.</em><br/>
<br/>
“I want-“ Louis licks him, making him shiver. “I want you to touch me.”<br/>
<br/>
He looks at him, blushing, as he swallows visibly. “We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry closes his eyes. “But I do. I do.”<br/>
<br/>
He presses a little kiss on his lips, to then give him a proper kiss, while moving his hand lower and lower into his pants.<br/>
And Harry almost melts in the scene.<br/>
It definitely doesn’t compare to do it oneself.<br/>
<br/>
He really tried to do something else, maybe to return the favor, but everything is Louis again. And his touch. And the way he shivers every time he hears Harry moan against his lips, how he kisses him to shut him up. He stopped kissing him for a moment there and stared directly into his eyes. It was a different gaze, not the usual sweet one he has. His eyes were filled with lust, with desire. A cheeky smile draws on his face.<br/>
His hand jerking him off gently, but strong.<br/>
Harry’s entire body trembling to every move. His efforts on not making any sound failing completely, so he hides his face in Louis’ neck. Heavenly pleasure burning through his chest, all the way to his thighs.<br/>
And it's too much.<br/>
<br/>
For a slow-paced beginning of his sexual life, this is a hell of a good start.<br/>
<br/>
When he realizes, he’s digging his nails on Louis’ shoulder. His faces still buried on his neck, trying to calm down his breathing.<br/>
He just can’t look at him right now.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey, are you there?” Harry shakes his head. “I wanna see you.”<br/>
<br/>
“M-mh.” He mutters.<br/>
<br/>
“I need a little help here.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Bloody hell.</em><br/>
<br/>
“I think I have tissues somewhere, maybe on my nightstand.”<br/>
<br/>
“I can’t turn around without leaving a mess.”<br/>
<br/>
By now he could perfectly bury his head on the ground.<br/>
<br/>
He faces Louis, and he has a clear proud-cheeky smile. He squints his eyes, as he takes a quick glance to his body.<br/>
And it’s also a mess, so fuck it. He carefully unbuttons his pajama top and takes it off cleaning himself with it, also  pulling his pants up.<br/>
Then he passes it to Louis and he cleans his hand. He reminds himself to wash that shirt as soon as possible.<br/>
<br/>
“Stop.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis giggles. “What?”<br/>
<br/>
“Smiling like that.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not.” He grins.<br/>
<br/>
“I can’t look at you.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis touches his chin and makes him look. He’s just as blushed as he is. “You’re fine.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sorry.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m definitely not complaining.” He kisses the tip of his nose. “Can I stay? I’m not feeling like using my shirt either.”<br/>
<br/>
“Only if I’m the little spoon this time.”<br/>
<br/>
“Fair enough.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry stands up and Louis observes him; he turns his radio off, grabs his shirt and goes to the bathroom. He washes it, avoiding to look himself in the mirror. <em>Shit.</em> He just got his first handjob. Louis Tomlinson did that. And it was oh-so-fascinating.<br/>
He hopes his mum and sister are deeply asleep by now.<br/>
<br/>
When he’s back in his room, Louis is already undercovers. Harry turns off the lights and goes into bed.  <br/>
Louis is wearing one of his pants, he probably took them from the closet. He smiles to himself only to the thought.<br/>
<br/>
“Did you mean it?”<br/>
<br/>
He whispers from behind. “What specifically?”<br/>
<br/>
“Do you really like me?”<br/>
<br/>
He presses a little kiss on his shoulder. “I think my actions speak better than myself, but yeah. I like you lots.” And another one. “Do you fancy me, H?”<br/>
<br/>
“Mmm.” He chuckles. “I think you clearly heard me.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis snorts. “I wanna hear you say it.”<br/>
<br/>
“I fancy you. Almost as much as I fancy strawberries on spring.”<br/>
<br/>
“Almost?”<br/>
<br/>
“Almost.”<br/>
<br/>
“Is that good or bad?”<br/>
<br/>
“Have you ever ate strawberries in a spring afternoon?”<br/>
<br/>
“No?”<br/>
<br/>
“Then you can’t know the feeling. But yeah, it’s exceptionally good. It’s like waiting a whole year to have that little moment.”<br/>
<br/>
“You’re a fool.” He kisses his shoulder again.<br/>
<br/>
“I know.”<br/>
<br/>
And with his nose semi-buried on his hair, Harry falls asleep to the warmth of Louis’ hands around him.</p><p>And oh-dear-god <em>that really happened. </em><br/>
He never thought it could be that good, and he’s not clear if it is because <em>it was him</em> or because he’s just really good at it. Plenty of his friends have always talked about receiving handjobs as if it was simply the most boring thing on Earth, but that’s on them.<br/>
He thinks it was special.<br/>
And Louis made it even more special, natural, even. Probably he’s done those things before with other people, but also he made him feel comfortable. Safe. He made him feel something he has never dared to discover so much by himself.<br/>
<br/>
He can’t help but to imagine how it’ll be to do more things with Louis.<br/>
That can also happen, eventually.<br/>
But at the same time he wants to keep going slow, he wants to get to know him even more before they do anything else. It’s not that Harry doesn’t want to, he does, but also he’s been so protective over his first times that he only feels taking time is the right thing to do.<br/>
Nothing’s rushing them right now.<br/>
<br/>
When he wakes up to his alarm, he’s alone. He wonders for a second if everything was a dream <em>—</em>which wakes him the fuck up<em>—</em> but he glances a little note above his desk.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<strong><em>“I wanted to stay longer but I need to take a shower before school.<br/>
Also nobody knows I’m here so let’s hope they didn’t notice.<br/>
<br/>
See you in a bit, sleepyhead.<br/>
<br/>
Lou. x”<br/>
<br/>
</em></strong><br/>
<em>Sleepyhead.<br/>
</em><br/>
Harry smiles, like a dork.<br/>
<br/>
A smile that probably won't leave his face for the rest of the week.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. "Song to the Siren"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>"but i knew you,</i>
  <br/>
  <i>playing hide and seek and</i>
  <br/>
  <i>giving me your weekends"</i>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Your eyes are so pretty.”<br/>
<br/>
“Stop staring at him!” Harry shouts from the kitchen, as he cuts cherry tomatoes in half. <em>Of course they’re pretty.</em><br/>
<br/>
“No but seriously. Mitch, come over here.” He also starts looking, which makes Louis giggle. “I can’t tell what shade of blue they are.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m too high to have this conversation. They’re cute, though.” Mitch sits back on the sofa and keeps watching MTV.<br/>
<br/>
“To be fair I don’t know what shade they’re either.” Louis blushes.<br/>
<br/>
She squints her eyes. “You have a bit of green near your pupil.”<br/>
<br/>
“Really?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah.”<br/>
<br/>
Fatboy Slim’s “Praise You” is playing from the telly. Harry has the pizza dough ready, and now he’s almost done with cutting the toppings. They’re all hungry, probably from all the joints they smoked on Sarah’s room.<br/>
<br/>
“How you doin’ in there?” Sarah shouts.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m almost ready, but I need help with the oven.” He waits for an answer, but they’re all watching this creepy commercial with a grandma blasting to “Firestarter”. Then, “I Want It That Way” starts playing.<br/>
<br/>
“I’ve heard this song literally everywhere. I don’t get its praise.”<br/>
<br/>
“Me neither.” Mitch shakes his head.<br/>
<br/>
“Can someone stop dawdling and help me in the kitchen?”<br/>
<br/>
Louis turns and smiles. “What do you need?”<br/>
<br/>
“Help with the o- did you not listen?”<br/>
<br/>
He giggles. “I’m sorry, love.”<br/>
<br/>
“Sarah?”<br/>
<br/>
“Alriiiight, I’ll go.”<br/>
<br/>
It’s a nice Thursday afternoon. Harry decided to invite Louis over to Sarah’s so he could meet them before the Berlin gig; also, they’ve been obnoxiously asking him to bring him over. They get along pretty well, actually. Harry doesn’t understand how, but he manages to talk lots with Mitch about guitars and Star Wars. Even Sarah is impressed.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
“Harry, please promise if you fail as a musician you’ll open a restaurant or something. This is so fucking goooood.” Sarah’s eyes are barely open.<br/>
<br/>
“When you’re hungry everything tastes better.”<br/>
<br/>
“Shut up, this is delicious.” Louis speaks with his mouth full.<br/>
<br/>
“Did you hear the Headmaster will make you wear uniforms next year?”<br/>
<br/>
“I thought it was just a rumour.”<br/>
<br/>
“It isn’t. They’ll announce it on Monday.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis grins. “Well, fuck.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’ll look disgusting in a uniform.”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t worry about it.” Mitch takes a bite of his pizza.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re not the ones who’ll have to deal with it.” Harry rolls his eyes. “Oh, shit, I totally forgot. Guess what Tony lent me.”<br/>
<br/>
She frowns. “What?”<br/>
<br/>
“Guess.”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t know, H. You tell me.”<br/>
<br/>
“Who’s Tony?” Louis tilts.<br/>
<br/>
“Our candyman.”<br/>
<br/>
“He finally gave in and lent me Jeremy.”<br/>
<br/>
“YOU’RE KIDDING.”<br/>
<br/>
“I have it on my bag.”<br/>
<br/>
“Which Jeremy?” Mitch looks at Sarah.<br/>
<br/>
“That Jeremy.”<br/>
<br/>
“Shit, are you serious?”<br/>
<br/>
“I have to give it back tomorrow, though.”<br/>
<br/>
“What are you waiting for? Bring it in!”<br/>
<br/>
He puts the CD and sits in Louis’ lap. And they wait.<br/>
<br/>
“Who’s Jeremy?”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, dear Louis, just wait and see. This is just the epitome of MTV’s failed censorship.”<br/>
<br/>
So the uncensored music video for “Jeremy” by Pearl Jam starts to play.<br/>
<br/>
“But I’ve seen this one.”<br/>
<br/>
“No, boo. Not this one.”<br/>
<br/>
Because this version is pretty graphic.<br/>
Long story short, the video pictures a kid who kills himself in front of his class. The censored version mistakenly shows the kid as if he shot his classmates. This version was completely erased from the television, so is pretty rare to found the original one.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m in love with Eddie.”<br/>
<br/>
“Me too.”<br/>
<br/>
“I still don’t get what’s so special about this one, is the exact same version from the telly.”<br/>
<br/>
“Be patient.”<br/>
<br/>
Then, she gasps. “OH MY GOD THEY DID THE NAZI SALUTE, IT WASN’T A RUMOR.”<br/>
<br/>
“The kid is a good actor.” Mitch nods.<br/>
<br/>
“I feel bad about him.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s what makes him a good actor.”<br/>
<br/>
“Shush.” Sarah covers Mitch’s mouth without seeing him.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sure in the original Eddie doesn’t point at his own head.”<br/>
<br/>
“Here it comes.”<br/>
<br/>
And they all sit in silence.<br/>
<br/>
“So he didn’t shoot the kids?”<br/>
<br/>
“Nope, he shot himself.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s so dark.” Louis looks kind of affected. Naturally.<br/>
<br/>
“In my opinion it should’ve been aired.”<br/>
<br/>
“Why?”<br/>
<br/>
“What do you think, is it better to pretend this shit doesn’t happen or to bring awareness to the matter?” Sarah looks at Louis.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, you’ve got a point. It’s pretty graphic still.”<br/>
<br/>
“I doubt they’ll air it anytime soon now, especially since what happened in Columbine.” Harry presses his lips.<br/>
<br/>
“I know, I know. Americans are so fucked up. Don’t let me start with the second amendment.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m still too high for this conversation.” Mitch rests his head on Sarah’s shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
“Shall we stay here or do you want to do something else?”<br/>
<br/>
Louis turns to Harry. His eyes still a bit red.<br/>
<br/>
“What time is it?”<br/>
<br/>
“Like 7?”<br/>
<br/>
“VH1 it is.”<br/>
<br/>
So they watch more videos and talk about how creepy the world is sometimes, with Soundgarden and Sonic Youth in the background. Louis sometimes would play with Harry’s fingers, which makes him feel a tingle on his fingertips. Him being so affectionate in front of other people is definitely something else; it makes him feel special, important, almost like his boyfriend.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Boyfriend.<br/>
</em>He plays with the word for a while on his head.<br/>
Because of course he’s already imagining doing boyfriend-stuff with him, like going to the movies or having a nice Sunday picnic. He likes how he gets along with Mitch and Sarah, especially since they’ve become so important to him. Louis is not as loud as when he’s with Niall’s group, but instead he’s just naturally charming, attentive and chatty. He likes to ask questions, and Harry surely knows how much Sarah loves answering them.<br/>
He imagines doing gigs, inviting him, partying afterwards and then snogging later on his room.<br/>
Which sounds like a perfect plan for tomorrow.<br/>
<br/>
Well, unless…<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
“You’re coming tomorrow?” Sarah drives through, while Korn and System of a Down play on the radio. She’s been getting deep into this genre lately. It’s not exactly Harry’s taste, but he doesn’t complain. It’s totally catchy, and the drums seem to be an elemental part of nu metal.<br/>
<br/>
“Definitely.”<br/>
<br/>
“You have to tell us if we sound bad. We’ll be relying on your judgment.” Mitch smirks, which is something he rarely does.<br/>
<br/>
“But why?”<br/>
<br/>
“I told them you had good taste.” Harry leans on Louis shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
“Do I?”<br/>
<br/>
“According to H you’re a big Stone Roses fan, which is enough for me.” Sarah looks by the rear view.<br/>
<br/>
He nods proudly and scrunches his nose. “I do, yeah. I didn’t know you were talking about me with other people.”<br/>
<br/>
“We’re not other people, we’re his parents.”<br/>
<br/>
“What are you planning to do after the gig, Lou?” She asks.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t know, maybe go home?” He glances at Harry with a cheeky expression. <em>Oh, dear God.</em><br/>
<br/>
“Don’t be boring, we should dance after. Maybe share a smoke.”<br/>
<br/>
“Sounds good to me.”<br/>
<br/>
“Which reminds me… Harry, what the hell are we wearing tomorrow?”<br/>
<br/>
“Niall said he wanted us to go black.”<br/>
<br/>
“You definitely need to wear something different, you’re the singer after all.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis smirks, for a reason.<br/>
<br/>
“I’ll let you know.”<br/>
<br/>
“We should all paint our nails. I saw this band who did it last Friday and they looked sick.” Mitch says.<br/>
<br/>
“I love that idea.” She nods. “Harry? You’re up?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, sure.”<br/>
<br/>
They get to Fairview; the sunset is slowly coming down upon them.<br/>
Louis talks enthusiastically how much he liked Mitch and Sarah, how friendly and cool they’re. “The kind of people that doesn’t even have to try”. His eyes sparkling with emotion, and he doesn’t know if Louis is excited because of them or because they interacted with each other outside Harry’s room.<br/>
Because it’s been, like, forever since the last time they talked in public.<br/>
It’s like they give them a little moment of freedom.<br/>
Like it’s not 1999, and they’re only normal boys who happen to like each other and they hang out with their friends. They watch bizarre music videos and smoke blunts. They make weekend plans.<br/>
<br/>
It's a nice thing to daydream about. A nice feeling to hold on for a minute.<br/>
<br/>
They wait for the lift, Louis impatiently tapping his foot on the floor.<br/>
<br/>
“Can I go to your place?”<br/>
<br/>
“You don’t even have to ask.” He smiles.<br/>
<br/>
And someone calls Louis. A deep, cold voice with the tingling of some bottles on his hands making noise.<br/>
And his face drops immediately, the light of his eyes vanishing only to the call.<br/>
<br/>
Louis’ dad walks in and stands behind them.<br/>
<br/>
“Did your mum call?”<br/>
<br/>
He sighs. “Not that I know of.”<br/>
<br/>
“I called her but she’s not picking up.” He’s talking rather slowly, struggling to pronounce the “sh”.<br/>
<br/>
“She’s at work.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know, but I told her to pick her phone when I call her. It’s not a difficult task, innit?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry didn’t notice when he took a step aside. Or when his foot stopped tapping. His eyes now completely void, lost in space.<br/>
He looks like an ex-soldier with PTSD.<br/>
<br/>
“Innit?”<br/>
<br/>
He looks at Harry. His dark blue eyes showing no expression but a condescending stare. It gives him goosebumps.<br/>
<br/>
They get in and the small space feels more tense between each other; Louis doesn’t even look at him, not even once. His dad tumbles a bit when the lift starts to go up. He’s just as lost as his son, looking at nothing as if he’s watching tv from the lift’s door.<br/>
<br/>
Louis nods goodbye when they get to his floor.<br/>
And Harry starts to breathe again when they leave.<br/>
<br/>
Louis doesn’t talk that often about his house-situation, neither about his relationship with his dad. At least, not since <em>that</em> Saturday. Harry doesn’t want to push him to speak about it, not when he looks so relaxed and happy when they’re together. It’s like all of those themes are banned from their convos: His dad, Eleanor, his mum and sisters –only when it comes to bad stuff, he usually talks proudly about them—and, sometimes, football if he has a bad day.<br/>
He wonders if maybe he needs to talk about it. Something else might be happening beyond his knowledge. It’s not like he can actively do anything, but obviously he’s not there for him only to snog and make jokes. He wants to be there also for the sad bits, the ugly ones.<br/>
He wants to take care of Louis just as much as he takes care of him too.<br/>
<br/>
He doesn’t show up that night, so Harry stayed up ‘til 2 am to overthink.<br/>
Because tomorrow’s his first gig.<br/>
And<em> bloody hell</em>.<br/>
He wonders how other cool-musicians felt in a moment like this, the previous night before their own first times. They probably didn’t care that much; they just went up and let themselves go, unbothered by the public eye.<br/>
But Harry knows himself. He’s as queer as a daffodil.<br/>
Is it the right moment to just let it be? To dance and sing and pretend the scenario is actually his, no matter how small? No matter who’s watching?<br/>
Louis will see him, will hear him. Not only him but a bunch of strangers, people that will judge him because they’re paying for it. To judge if they’re good or boring.<br/>
Good or boring.<br/>
Boring. He hates boring.<br/>
Harry decides he’ll try to not care that much. If it goes wrong, it goes wrong. If the gets to evoke his flamboyant-self up there, it is what it is; it’s not like he has not been obvious by just existing this whole time.<br/>
And the only way they’ll ignore completely that he’s, well, <em>like that,</em> is impressing them enough with his voice and talent.<br/>
He knows he’s a good singer. He knows his own range.<br/>
Maybe that’ll do.<br/>
He hopes.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
° ° °<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, but what do we have here? The one and only, mister Harry Edward Styles! Show me your face.”<br/>
<br/>
“Get that thing off my face, please.”<br/>
<br/>
“Come on, Haz, show the camera the pretty make up I just did.” He giggles and closes his eyes. “Alright, alright. Now, tell me. What are you doing tonight?”<br/>
<br/>
“My first gig.”<br/>
<br/>
“Exactly, your first gig.” Gemma scrunches her nose and points the camera to his chest. “I’m not sure about the shirt but…”<br/>
<br/>
“Ziggy is staying.”<br/>
<br/>
“Show me your nails. Yep, I should just drop uni and become a stylist.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry giggles and snatches the camera of her hands, now filming her. “Oh, but what do we have here? A 21 year old who still can make her mind about her future?”<br/>
<br/>
She squints. “Don’t start, I’m warning you.”<br/>
<br/>
“Start what?”<br/>
<br/>
“At least I am in uni.”<br/>
<br/>
“Freddie didn’t go to uni.” Harry shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
“Harry, that’s where Queen met.”<br/>
<br/>
“Seriously?”<br/>
<br/>
And she laughs. “Oh my god. What kind of fan are you, really?”<br/>
<br/>
“Ok, fuck it. He went to uni. I need a ride. Pretty please?”<br/>
<br/>
Gemma grabs the handycam back. “I just can’t believe you. Ok, say bye to the camera!” He waves and she puts it down. “Where’s your boyfriend? Doesn’t he have a car?”<br/>
<br/>
“He’s coming later.”<br/>
<br/>
“Alright, I’ll drive you. But… you have to lend me “13”, I’m dying to hear it full.”<br/>
<br/>
“Deal. Let’s go.”<br/>
<br/>
He’s dying to pull down the window so the air will caress his face. “Charlie Don’t Surf” by The Clash makes him feel like this Friday night is his, and his only.<br/>
And it is, in a certain way.<br/>
Gemma talks to him about how she’s meeting this guy while doing her thesis. He’s <em>a typical Sunday guy who loves dogs and going to the beach.</em> Harry quietly hopes he’s something deeper than that; she deserves special people on her life. She is quite chatty tonight.<br/>
They scream together the lyrics to “The Magnificent Seven”, just like they used to do when Harry was just getting into cool music, leaving behind the the Top 40. One of his biggest developments, on his opinion.<br/>
<br/>
“Did you eat anything?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry shakes his head, feet on the dash. “I can’t.”<br/>
<br/>
“I figured you would do that, so I brought tangerines and a water bottle.”<br/>
<br/>
“Thank you.” He smiles at her.<br/>
<br/>
“I know. I don’t want you to be anyone but yourself up there, ok? No matter what people tell you.”<br/>
<br/>
He nods in response.<br/>
And they park outside.<br/>
<br/>
“Oi, finally!” Sarah shouts. She’s got lots of bags around her. Mitch is smoking a cigarette next to her. Again, coolest people in town.<br/>
Gemma pinches his cheeks. “Be good, please don’t do drugs, call me if something happens and we’ll pick you up. Who’s bringing you back?”<br/>
<br/>
“Sarah”. He gives her a side-glance. “Maybe Louis.”<br/>
<br/>
She grins. “Of course. I love you.”<br/>
<br/>
“Love you too.”<br/>
<br/>
Berlin looks different without wasted people dancing around. The floor is actually white and cleaned up. It’s impressive. They all greet to each other with hugs and kisses, and Harry gets to the conclusion that even the people who work here give immensely bisexual vibes. <em>Might as well be a requisite, who knows. </em><br/>
Sarah is wearing a striped shirt and high-waisted blue trousers.<br/>
<br/>
“Where’s your beret?”<br/>
<br/>
“Shut up, I look good.”<br/>
<br/>
He smiles. “Never said the contrary. When do we start?”<br/>
<br/>
“12:30. They want us just in time for the 80’s section at 2.”<br/>
<br/>
“Are we even sure there will be people by then?”<br/>
<br/>
“Defo. Help me move those chairs, please.”<br/>
<br/>
They quickly start arranging the place. The scenario is right next to the DJ, so they have enough space to move.<br/>
And Niall is nowhere in sight.<br/>
<br/>
“Oi, where the hell are you?” Harry walks around the dancefloors, phone in hand. Neon lights making him feel like a pimp in a 70’s movie.<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Stuck in traffic.”<br/>
<br/>
</em>“For fuck’s sake, Niall. You should’ve been here by 10:30 now.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“I know, I know, but I lost my shirt!”<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Did you bring the right-“<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Obviously. Just start sound checking and I’ll be there soon.”<br/>
<br/>
</em><br/>
Harry sips from his orange juice. It has a leaf of mint with a few drops of lemon. It tastes amazing and it keeps his throat hydrated. All thanks to Sam, the bartender. She’s incredibly nice and has natural curly hair, which bounces when she walks. A detail Harry founds interesting. He asks himself if his own hair bounces like that.<br/>
<br/>
They’re playing Iggy Pop as Stella mops the floor, chewing gum, looking cool effortless.<br/>
Sarah’s tuning the guitars and Mitch is helping to set up the lights. They will be using blue at the first instrumental, then green with the cover, a mix of violet and green for Niall’s song and then red and white lights for the last one.<br/>
<br/>
Harry giggles to himself.<br/>
<br/>
“What?” Sarah smirks.<br/>
<br/>
“We’re actually doing this.”<br/>
<br/>
“Didn’t you hear? We’re prepping the scenario for The Shaggs, not for us.” And Mitch laughs because she’s his girlfriend, naturally.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m here! I’m here!” Niall runs through the stairs, miraculously not falling. “Look at youuuu. You all look so cool!”<br/>
<br/>
And <em>duh</em>, of course they look good.<br/>
<br/>
Harry’s wearing his plaid green trousers, a pair of black Doc Martens, a black shirt with Ziggy Stardust and The Spiders from Mars on it and a gold cross necklace. His eyes have gold glitter on them –because he liked wearing it and Louis liked them last time—and he has black nail polish on his nails.<br/>
<br/>
Mitch and Niall decided to dress all black, but also painting their nails black. It feels kind of empowering for Harry not being the only one wearing it up there.<br/>
<br/>
“You look decent.” Harry smiles, hugging him. “Here, drink the rest of this. We need to start warming up and then we’ll do the sound check.”<br/>
<br/>
“But I told you-“<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, I know. I was not going to let you out of it. We all have to sound good.”<br/>
<br/>
Sound-check goes fairly nice. His voice doesn’t fail once. In his defense, a nice warm up + juice is the best combination.<br/>
Just when they finish, the DJ starts sound-checking too. He starts with “Kinky Afro” by Happy Mondays.<br/>
<br/>
“Harry.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yup?”<br/>
<br/>
“Louis is coming, right?”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Oh, Sarah.<br/>
<br/>
</em>Niall frowns. “Do you know him?”<br/>
<br/>
“Eeeeeh.” She looks at Harry, trying to play it cool. Mitch hiding a smile. “Yeah, I mean… I- Yeah. In Harry’s birthday.” <em>Good one.</em> “We danced together. Nice lad.”<br/>
<br/>
“But that was like a thousand years ago.”<br/>
<br/>
She points at her right temple. “Elephant memory.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, right.” He smiles politely. “He said he was coming, right?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, he said that.” <em>Calm the fuck down, Harry. Jesus.<br/>
</em><br/>
“Brilliant.” Sarah nods, probably cursing at herself mentally.<br/>
He doesn’t blame her; it was just yesterday they were hanging out together talking about Britney Spears or something. It’s hard to catch up on the fact they’re not “friends” publicly.<br/>
<br/>
Niall and Mitch walk out to share a cigarette and Sarah starts laughing. “You should’ve reminded me to keep my mouth shut.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sorry.”<br/>
<br/>
“No, I’m sorry. I almost fucked it up. I promise I'll be more careful.”<br/>
<br/>
And suddenly, it’s 23:30 pm.<br/>
They are letting people in.<br/>
<em>Fuuuuuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit.<br/>
</em><br/>
The DJ starts playing “Beautiful Ones” by Suede as Harry looks at the entrance impatiently. Louis might be outside right now, at this very moment.<br/>
The club, now that it only has like 10 people inside, smells quite good. A mix of jasmine incense with lavender from the liquid cleaner, hairspray, deodorant, a bit of someone’s cheap perfume, the smell of the smoke machine, more hairspray, leather and, naturally, alcohol.<br/>
If there’s a nice smell to describe nightclubbing in 1999, this is the one.<br/>
Because dear God they don’t smell that good afterwards.<br/>
<br/>
Yeah.<br/>
He needs alcohol.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you alright, love?”<br/>
<br/>
“Can you make me another one?” He points at his glass.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, sure.”<br/>
<br/>
“Can you add a bit of… you know.”<br/>
<br/>
“Vodka?”<br/>
<br/>
“Maybe.”<br/>
<br/>
She smiles and shakes her head.  “Are you nervous?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yep.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not going to be that person and say “don’t be” but really, don’t. You sound perfect. I heard ya’.” Sam gives him the glass and he drinks it like water. “Easy there, I don’t want you wasted so early.”<br/>
<br/>
Niall puts an arm around him, his hands smelling like soap. “How’s the best singer in all England?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m- scared. Terrified. Frightened.”<br/>
<br/>
He shakes his head. “Don’t be! Our friends will be there to support us.”<br/>
<br/>
“Your friends.”<br/>
<br/>
“Jane just called and she said they’re on their way.”<br/>
<br/>
“Who?” He breathes.<br/>
<br/>
“You know, the whole gang!”<br/>
<br/>
Harry blinks twice. “Define whole gang.”<br/>
<br/>
“Just let’s go to the dressing rooms, alright?”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Nope, not alright.</em><br/>
Even if fucking “Alright” by Supergrass was playing right now.<br/>
<em>Fuck Supergrass.<br/>
</em><br/>
And as they start walking, Jane shouts.<br/>
<br/>
Things are far from alright.<br/>
<br/>
Eleanor and Ella are standing next to her.<br/>
And Louis is walking down the stairs.<br/>
<br/>
<em>You have to be fucking kidd-<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Hello, boys. Looking good as usual.” She kisses him on the cheek and then hugs Niall. “I managed to bring them all! For old time’s sake!”<br/>
<br/>
“We just came here once.” Harry mumbles.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you nervous, Harry?”<br/>
<br/>
He shakes his head, and that’s all he can do. “I’m- I need a drink.”<br/>
And Harry turns around. Walks away from a mess he doesn’t have the time to face right now.<br/>
<br/>
“Sam?”<br/>
<br/>
She looks at him, smirking. “Another one? Harry, it’s been like two minutes!”<br/>
<br/>
“Another one.”<br/>
<br/>
“This is the last one, alright? After the show you can drink all you want.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry gulps down his pint and goes to the bathroom.<br/>
<br/>
To put himself together.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Listen, you dork. We already knew this shit could happen. We visited every possible scenario. Is it better him coming with her than not coming at all? Maybe. Maybe not.<br/>
He came over and that’s what matters. She’s his “girlfriend”, of course she was coming with him, but I’m not going to let it affect me.<br/>
Not tonight.<br/>
Not when this is supposed to be our night.<br/>
She’s just-<br/>
<br/>
</em>“There’s No Other Way”, by Blur starts playing. <em>Funny.</em><br/>
<em><br/>
She’s just a beard.”<br/>
<br/>
</em>He walks out and takes a quick glance to the mirror; under all that makeup and clothes, he’s still just a kid. A nervous one. A year ago he was probably sleeping by now or reading quietly in his room.<br/>
Now he’s in a nightclub, full of people doubling his age, almost ready to perform in front of them for the first time.<br/>
He fixes his hair, checks the glitter is still there and walks out. Heads up.<br/>
Because fuck it.<br/>
<br/>
The place gets full eventually. Harry walks past people and they all look interesting on their own little world. Every hairstyle, every parched denim jacket and old black leather; every outfit better than what dearest-Tommy Hilfiger could ever achieve on his runways. He wonders if one day he’ll be able to wear more… you know, freely. Maybe more makeup.<br/>
One day, perhaps. When people don’t have to wait ‘til past 12 to dress however they want.<br/>
<br/>
He finds Niall leaning on the wall with a glass of orange juice on his hand, watching people dancing to “Disco 2000” by Pulp, lip-synching the lyrics. Louis is next to him, smoking a cigarette, holding it between his index and thumb. He squints his eyes a little when he smokes, like Clint Eastwood in those Italian western movies.<br/>
Harry loves that, of course.<br/>
<br/>
“Hello, gentlemen.” He greets them, steady-handed. Louis presses his lips and nods.<br/>
<br/>
“I was ok until five minutes ago. Your nervousness is really contagious.” Niall frowns, as he takes a sip.<br/>
<br/>
“Well don’t be.” Harry mocks him. “Besides, I’m alright now.”<br/>
<br/>
“You sure? You were shaking like a bloody chihuahua not so long ago.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah. I feel rather good, actually. Where’s everyone?”<br/>
<br/>
“On the other floor. They’re drinking already so let’s hope they’re drunk enough to hear us later.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not drinking tonight, so don’t count me in on it.” Louis interrupts.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh?” Niall raises an eyebrow.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m driving, so-”<br/>
<br/>
“Makes sense. What do you want to do afterwards? I mean, after our show.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m going to El’s house, probably.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Easy, Harry. Don’t lose it so quickly. </em><br/>
<br/>
Harry swallows and responds with a cold tone. “A pint won’t hurt you, I guess.”<br/>
<br/>
“Still dangerous. I’m not going to risk it for a pint.” Louis says in return.  <br/>
<br/>
This is not turning as Harry expected.<br/>
<br/>
“What time is it?”<br/>
<br/>
“12:13. Shall we go now?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, Sarah’s probably looking for us.”<br/>
<br/>
Niall nods and starts walking. When Harry’s about to follow him, Louis holds his hand and squeezes it softly, like reassuring him. With the hope no one noticed it, squeezing him back and pursing his mouth, he leaves.<br/>
She’s already up the little stage checking the amplifiers; Harry sees how people are waiting around them, drawn by their curiosity. He checks his guitar is well tuned and sees the whole group arriving, front row, cheering them up.<br/>
Louis smiling at him, subtly.<br/>
Lights done. Instruments and amplifiers checked up. The DJ slowly starting to turn the music down.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Let’s fucking do this thing.</em><br/>
<br/>
Mitch starts playing his guitar, neither of them verbally introducing themselves to the public. Sarah slowly starts to play a beat, following Niall on his bass. He starts feeling better, his body leaving every insecurity outside the scenario.<br/>
She quickly changes to 129 bpm, and they recognize the song almost immediately when Mitch starts to play his riff which draws more people into watching them.<br/>
Harry sings, and they sing with them –the song is quite popular still after two years—which is helpful and it’s easier to catch their attention. They move their heads along him, encouraging Harry to become more loose up there. He quickly gets rid of the mic stand and just walks and dances around. People seem to like it for now.<br/>
<br/>
Now they start to sing the next one, and somehow even if the song is theirs –therefore completely unknown—the crowd stays. Sarah has a broad smile on her face, Mitch’s face unbothered. Niall is genuinely enjoying it. He tries not to pay attention to his so-called friends in the front, even if Liam looks like a proud mom and his other friends are just staring at them, occasionally screaming and cheering them up. Louis’ eyes are totally fixed on him, though, which is a better reason to try to ignore them. He’s too distracting.<br/>
He sees the owner of the place from the back, arms-crossed, apparently also enjoying their music. He really can’t tell from such a distance.<br/>
Ella, naturally, has a straight face. Looks bored. Totally expected, like Jane’s expression who, by the look of it, understands that the song is about her.<br/>
Harry singing songs with female pronouns is quite the oxymoron.<br/>
<br/>
They finish the song successfully and they start clapping, enthusiastically.<br/>
Niall names the two previous songs played and introduce themselves to them, name by name. “Harry Styles in vocals and guitar” sounds weird out loud. He loves it.<br/>
He leaves his guitar carefully next to him.<br/>
And that’s his cue.<br/>
<br/>
Taps his foot three times and<br/>
<br/>
<em>“She works her way through a cheap pack of cigarettes<br/>
Hard liquor mixed with a bit of intellect<br/>
And all the boys, they were saying they were into it –he makes a pose to his face with his hands--<br/>
Such a pretty face, on a pretty neck”<br/>
<br/>
</em>Sarah and Niall sing with him on the chorus, as he lets himself go and starts dancing through the song. It’s kinda hard to keep breathing and singing and dancing at the same time, but somehow he manages to do it; embodies ever Live Aid concert he has watched before and those weird steps he’s practiced on his room, only on his underwear. He hears the crowd trying to sing along the lyrics and it’s so-fucking-exciting.<br/>
<br/>
<em>“… When she’s alone she goes home to a cactus<br/>
In a black dress, she’s such an actress”<br/>
<br/>
</em>The inspiration, the unwanted “muse”, was right in front of him; the universe just blessed them with the coincidence she’s, in fact, also wearing a black dress. Somehow she doesn’t realize, she just moves her head and drinks from her cup, talking to Ella occasionally. Louis can’t hold his smile, though, because <em>he knows </em>who’s the song about. It’s not like he didn’t refer to himself as <em>“a fuckin’ cactus whenever she touched him, lately”</em>. <br/>
A little teasing won’t hurt anyone.<br/>
<br/>
Mitch glances him and smiles in the solo, as Harry just shouts and dances like nobody’s seeing him. The crowd jumps and dance and chant the chorus with him, and for Harry it’s a total success of a presentation.<br/>
He throws himself to the floor, all sweaty, and that’s it.<br/>
And they break into applauses and cheers.<br/>
As he tries to catch his breath and to stand up, Niall helps him and offers his hand, to whisper on his ear.<br/>
<br/>
“Sarah just told me the man in charge wants another one but we haven’t practiced anything else, please tell me you can cover a good one.”<br/>
<br/>
And <em>fucking hell. They were doing so good.</em></p><p>“But Niall my covers are too depressing.”<br/>
<br/>
“Half of those people are goths. Sing something.”<br/>
<br/>
They slowly stop clapping. They don’t leave, they wait there.<br/>
Which is enough pressure on itself.<br/>
Harry grabs his guitar and tries to think quickly for the precise song to close, and a lightbulb goes into his head.<br/>
Because Louis is there, watching still, and it’s the right moment to sing him something. A song he learned and covered back in April, when he felt sad and missed him.<br/>
Green and violet lights decorate his profile, and it’s perfect.<br/>
Harry sighs.<br/>
I guess Tim Buckley never fails.<br/>
<br/>
He plays the first chords and some people apparently recognize the song, as he hears some “aww” on the back.<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Long afloat on shipless oceans<br/>
I did all my best to smile<br/>
‘til your singing eyes and fingers<br/>
Drew me loving to your isle”</em><br/>
<br/>
His voice fits nicely to Tim’s tone. <br/>
<br/>
<em>“And you sang<br/>
Sail to me<br/>
Sail to me, let me enfold you<br/>
Here I am<br/>
Here I am<br/>
Waiting to hold you”<br/>
<br/>
</em>And Louis is looking, listening. He knows they often communicate this way, through lyrics and songs. His eyes filled with fond and sadness at once. He knows it’s about him. For Harry it’s enough.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>“Did I dream you dreamed about me?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Were you hare when I was fox?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Now my foolish boat is leaning</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Broken lovelorn on your rocks”</em>
</p><p><em><br/>
</em>The mic makes a subtle reverb on it which, with the lights, makes the space feel dreamy. The Disco ball turning around, with its reflected lights on people’s faces.<br/>
Everyone’s listening, except perhaps for Ella and two more people.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>“For you sing</em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘Touch me not</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Touch me not, come back tomorrow</em>
</p><p>
  <em>O my heart, o my heart, shies from the sorrow’”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>And she leaves to the other floor, which honestly makes him feel better. Eleanor side-glances at</p><p>Louis and he looks down. She whispers something to him; he shakes his head and she walks to the</p><p>bar. Maybe to go get a beer or something. Anyways, is even more helpful. He can just serenade</p><p>the rest of the song.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Well I am puzzled as the oyster</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I am troubled as the tide</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Should I stand amid the breakers?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Should I lie with death, my bride?</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Hear me sing, swim to me</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Swim to me, let me enfold you</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Here I am, here I am</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>(For some reason, the last lyric always breaks his voice a bit.)</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Waiting to hold you”<br/>
<br/>
</em>
</p><p>They all stay silent for the longest five seconds ever, and then start clapping, whistling and</p><p>cheering again, especially Niall’s friends; Harry doesn’t even bother to break the stare with</p><p>Louis. Niall puts a hand on his shoulder, smiling and waving to the crowd, which breaks the magic</p><p>of the moment for a bit.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>People ask for another one, so Harry says: “Thank you for having us, I hope you all have a great</p><p>night.” Suddenly he feels shy again. They start to DJ starts playing music to fill the room and Sarah</p><p>hugs him tight.</p><p> </p><p>“That was so beautifully depressing, Harry. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you singing like that.” She</p><p>grins and looks to Niall and Mitch. “That was great, innit?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m satisfied.”<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“I think it we did good.” Niall nods, smiling. “What were those steps, by the way?”</p><p> </p><p>Harry shrugs and smiles, the high of the past moment still pounding on his head. “Tried my best.”</p><p> </p><p>“You were an absolute freak, I loved it. ” Sarah giggles, her eyes sparkling from emotion. “Now</p><p>let’s leave our stuff on the dressing rooms and let’s have fun, shall we?”<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Harry grabs his guitar and Liam runs to congrats him. He talks about how much he liked their original songs and asks him about the title of, you know, <em>that song</em>.<br/>
<br/>
“I haven’t figured it out yet.”<br/>
<br/>
“Absolutely loved the lyrics. Did you write it?”<br/>
<br/>
“Me and Mitch.”<br/>
<br/>
“His solos are so cool.” He nods, a little tipsy. “And the last one?”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s from Tim Buckley.”<br/>
<br/>
“My mum usually plays that at home but it’s a girl singing, it gives you goosebumps.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, Liz Frazer is definitely on another league.”<br/>
<br/>
“I loved your rendition to it.”<br/>
<br/>
“Thank you.” Harry smiles, all friendly.<br/>
<br/>
“What are you doing now?”<br/>
<br/>
“I guess I’ll change my shirt and then I’ll come back to dance around.”<br/>
<br/>
“Do you wanna drink something? My treat.”<br/>
<br/>
“Anything, really.”<br/>
<br/>
“How about some tequila shots?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry snorts and shakes his head. “I’m too old for that stuff.”<br/>
<br/>
“Come on, mate. For old time’s sake! I wanna see New-Year’s-Fun-Harry again.”<br/>
<br/>
 <br/>
Harry changes to a lighter white shirt as he hears the sudden change of music from the dressing room. Top 40’s.<br/>
<br/>
He looks himself in the mirror, his hair is a total mess and his pupils are huge.<br/>
He quietly decides he wants to do this the rest of his life.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey, Narcissus. We need to lock the door, you comin’?”<br/>
<br/>
Naturally everybody moved on quickly from their show. He doesn’t blame them, it’s a nightclub after all. They’re all dancing to a song from the Vengaboys, who still haven’t grown into him yet. Same repetitive boring beat, which is also helpful if you’re a drunk white person with zero skills for dancing.<br/>
However, people smile and cheer him up when he’s back on the floor. Some even dare enough to flirt with him. He’s not used to this kind of attention, less to the fact that someone would like him for his music. Their music. His voice. Same thing.<br/>
He sees Niall with his group are talking/shouting to each other while sipping their drinks. Liam is on the bar.<br/>
With Louis.<br/>
Louis. Louis. Louis.<br/>
<br/>
“Hello there, how are we doing now?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m still shaking a little bit.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis drinks from his cup, repressing a smile. “You were nice up there.”<br/>
<br/>
“Thank you, Louis.”<br/>
<br/>
Liam interrupts, excited. “So, I bought 12 shots. 6 for each of us. Up for it?”<br/>
<br/>
He sighs, holding one of the little shots and sniffs it. Pure, raw tequila. “If you’re in, I’m in.”<br/>
<br/>
And dear God he was so in.<br/>
Harry ended up drinking the six shots. And then six more.<br/>
And the floor is not that white anymore.<br/>
<br/>
He dances with Sarah and Mitch, unconscious of his own steps, clumsy enough to bump into strangers around him. Not clumsy enough to move his body to the beat. Sarah’s eyes nonexistent from how high she is. For a moment it feels like any other casual Friday.<br/>
A guy tries to take him to dance but Harry declines him vehemently. In his blurred, drunk mind, he’s waiting for Louis to show up.<br/>
<em>He’s probably on the other floor and here I am, moving like a total dork to “Walking on Sunshine”.<br/>
How ironic.</em><br/>
And he suddenly has the most stupid idea ever.<br/>
<br/>
He decides to go and look for him.<br/>
<br/>
The change of scenario is noticeable: the previous pink and green lights from the 80’s floor contrasts the blue and strobing white lights from the Big-beat themed one. Everyone seems kind of lost into whatever-they-consumed while Harry stumbles a little to walk through, bouncing to the rhythm. He notices Niall snogging Jane, his hands all over her, so he quickly turns around. Liam is almost as wasted as him, laying on one of the sofas, speaking to some random girl.<br/>
<br/>
“Have you seen Louis?” He interrupts on purpose.<br/>
<br/>
“Louis? Ehm… I guess? Like, twenty minutes ago.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry keeps walking, bouncing to the Prodigy through the dancefloor. <em>There are too many people</em>. Someone grabs his waist and he doesn’t flinch, he’s too blurred out to care. They dance near him, touching his arms, when he realizes that was not what he came to do on the first place. He turns and it’s just a weird-looking guy who smiles at him. Harry moves on to the other floor.<br/>
<br/>
Sarah and Mitchell are kissing all smitten to Heaven 17’s Temptation.<br/>
And fuck, it sucks to feel like Renton in <em>that-specific-scene-with-the-same-bloody-soundtrack-in-Trainspotting</em>.<br/>
Maybe it’s the universe telling him to wait.<br/>
He looks around, everyone is dancing with someone else or in a group.<br/>
<em>Maybe he’s smoking outside. </em><br/>
<br/>
More tequila shots are tempting.<br/>
<br/>
He basically floats to Sam and asks her for three more, giving her a tip.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s not necessary.”<br/>
<br/>
“Just take it, please.” He smiles.<br/>
<br/>
And the three shots are gone in a minute.<br/>
He orders a pint of beer and goes straight to the middle of everyone, to dance by himself.<br/>
Is it ok being this wasted so young? Probably not, but people do it all the time. Also, he’s been missing on lots of things normal teenagers do before they turn 15. This is just him catching up.<br/>
He feels a bit homesick, hates when that happens every time he feels he’s having proper fun. Obviously, everything feels better in the comfort of his room.<br/>
However, he enjoys feeling this lost. No one’s looking at him –for his knowledge–, so it doesn’t really matter if his steps are lazy or sloppy.<br/>
<br/>
Summer’s voice and Morris’ synthesizers hit him right when the song’s over. It’s one of his favorites: “Bizarre Love Triangle”. The smoke machine and the lasers are funny, somehow.<br/>
<br/>
He recognizes Louis’ hair afar.<br/>
<br/>
Being gripped by someone else’s hands.<br/>
<br/>
His face being kissed by someone else’s lips.<br/>
<br/>
And oh, it hurts.<br/>
<br/>
An instant lump on his throat that goes away quickly with a gulp of cold beer.<br/>
<br/>
He’s too drunk to process anything, actually, so he can’t stop staring.<br/>
<br/>
It’s like looking at a car crash without blinking.<br/>
<br/>
<em>A cactus.<br/>
He’s just a cactus.</em><br/>
<br/>
He meets his eyes for a second, in panic, in pain. Ella and some other people are next to him; however, he looks lonely.<br/>
Oh, so lonely.<br/>
Harry takes a deep breath, reminding himself that he knew it could happen. Of course, seeing it is quite different from to only think about it. Seeing it makes it real.<br/>
It's better to pretend it doesn’t happen.<br/>
But it does.<br/>
And it will for a long time, probably.<br/>
<br/>
He physically tries to shake the thought off his head and he feels a pat on his back.<br/>
<br/>
“Harry! I was looking for you! I got here mid-show but I saw a part of it and you absolutely smashed it. I loved it!”<br/>
It's Molly. She’s smoking, moving to the beat of the song.<br/>
<br/>
“Thanks.” He nods in response. “Can I bum one?”<br/>
<br/>
She takes out a red Marlboro and offers him a light.<br/>
<br/>
“I didn’t know you smoked.”<br/>
<br/>
“Meh, sometimes.” The cig tastes awful, as he tries to look cool trying to smoke from it. He coughs quite a lot before getting used to the smoke on his lungs.<br/>
<br/>
“Wanna go to the other floor?”<br/>
<br/>
They walk as they try to make themselves a space between the people who are already there. It’s kind of full, but they make it. “Dark Train” by Underworld is playing, and Harry doesn’t even care anymore. He keeps dancing like nothing’s happening. But everything’s happening.<br/>
Everything’s happening and he chooses not to care. He doesn’t even try to dance properly; he just moves to the beat and lays his weight alternately on each foot.<br/>
Molly closes her eyes and moves her arms, just smiling and dancing. She doesn’t try to make any conversation again, she just does her thing which, for Harry, is pretty comforting.<br/>
<br/>
“You look pretty cute tonight.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Aaaaand fuck.<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Thank you?”<br/>
<br/>
“I miss that you hang out with us at school.”<br/>
<br/>
“Mitch and Sarah are leaving next semester, so- I guess you’ll see me around often.”<br/>
<br/>
Molly nods and lights another cigarette while a remix of “Loaded” by Primal Scream starts to sound. She holds it between her index and middle finger and puts it on Harry’s lips. He smokes, this time not coughing.<br/>
And glances Louis and Eleanor passing next to them.<br/>
He doesn’t look happy, at all.<br/>
<br/>
After what seems to be like an hour or so, Harry feels tired and totally-totally wasted.<br/>
<br/>
The cold breeze from the street slaps him on the face, as he walks out with Molly.<br/>
And just like a fucking parody, his “group” and Niall’s group are hanging out together, like having fun or something. Minus Louis and Eleanor.<br/>
The power of alcohol,<em> I guess.</em></p><p>It feels like his birthday party all over again.<br/>
<br/>
“Oi, Harry! Molly! C’mere!”<br/>
<br/>
He stumbles as he crosses the street, not even checking if a car’s coming.<br/>
<br/>
“You got lost for a second, eh?” Niall smiles, his arm around Jane.<br/>
<br/>
“We were dancing.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry squints his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“He’s a fairly good dancer.” She responds, smiling.<br/>
<br/>
He feels Ella’s eyes on him, analyzing the whole interaction.<br/>
Again, it’s exhausting.<br/>
<br/>
“I think I might head off home.”<br/>
<br/>
“But it’s so early!”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, the night is barely starting.”<br/>
<br/>
“Fuck off, it’s like 3 in the morning.”<br/>
<br/>
Sarah gives him the keys. He walks down and goes to the dressing room to pick his bags and his guitar. The white lights blinding him. His attention span not working properly, as he stands in front of the mirror only looking his face closely. One’s face looks weird after a while observing it at 3 in the morning. Fact.<br/>
<br/>
His phone buzzes, and he misses the call.<br/>
He just keeps staring.<br/>
<br/>
Sarah enters the room. “Lovebird is looking for you.”<br/>
<br/>
“How do you know?”<br/>
<br/>
“He just called me.”<br/>
<br/>
“Wha- How do you have his number?” Harry frowns.<br/>
<br/>
“Just go!”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
° ° °<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
He leans his head against the window and glances Louis’ quiet profile. Eyes fixed on the road, probably tired and lost into the unknown song from the radio. Harry slowly starts pealing a tangerine; his tummy hasn’t stopped growling in a while. He’s starving.<br/>
<br/>
“Did you have fun?”<br/>
<br/>
“When?”<br/>
<br/>
Louis snorts. “Harry, come on.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m serious.”<br/>
<br/>
“Playing? Singing?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, I had fun.” His eyes hurt from the light of the lamp-posts passing fast next to them. Louis nods in silence, as he keeps driving.<br/>
<br/>
“You were delightful.”<br/>
<br/>
“You think so?” Harry chuckles.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, yeah. Totally.”<br/>
<br/>
For a reason that might be unknown to him, Louis’ tone sounds somewhat condescending.<br/>
<br/>
“What?”<br/>
<br/>
“What?” He turns.<br/>
<br/>
“What’s wrong?” Harry inquires.<br/>
<br/>
“Nothing, I just said you were delightful. That’s all.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Of course there’s something wrong. </em><br/>
<br/>
“Lou, talk to me.”<br/>
<br/>
“I promise it’s nothing.”<br/>
<br/>
“Hey.” Harry frowns. “Don’t promise if you don’t mean it.”<br/>
<br/>
“I mean it.” He snaps.<br/>
<br/>
Harry sighs, completely clueless of his cold reactions. Did he do something wrong and he just doesn’t know?<br/>
He's still very drunk, but he’s not stupid.<br/>
<br/>
The music fills the space between them, a literal-metaphoric space. Louis seems… resentful, mad even, and Harry’s not sure if he knows why.<br/>
Again, it’s not like he did anything.<br/>
<br/>
It’s 4:12.<br/>
<br/>
“We’re home.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>We’re home. </em><br/>
<br/>
He walks off the car and the sound the door makes when he closes it quickly wakes him up, but not enough to stop him from dragging his feet to the lift. Louis still caught on his own thoughts.<br/>
He's very clingy after they don’t spend time together.<br/>
<br/>
“Did I do something?”<br/>
<br/>
Louis sighs, tired. “I’m… I don’t even want to talk about it.”<br/>
<br/>
“But wh-“<br/>
<br/>
“Because it’s not fair.” He interrupts. “I’m just… bitter. Absurdly bitter.”<br/>
<br/>
Which apparently is contagious, because he’s feeling the same bitter frustration. “What are you talking about?<br/>
<br/>
“What do you think?”<br/>
<br/>
Is it because he danced with Molly?<br/>
The door opens on Harry’s floor and Louis walks as if he’s walking to his own place.<br/>
<br/>
<em>We’re home.<br/>
<br/>
</em>They manage to sneak quietly into his room. He stands by the door.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sorry, I told you it was not fair.”<br/>
<br/>
“Is it because I danced with Molly?”<br/>
<br/>
Louis frowns and takes a deep breath. “I mean-“<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t get it.” Harry sits on the bed, taking off his shoes.  “I don’t really get it. I have to see you snogging Eleanor like she’s actually your girlfriend and I’m supposed to be fine, perfectly fine, totally fine. I choose to dance with her and you get to be upset about it?”<br/>
<br/>
“I couldn’t care less about her, Harry.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh but I do, I do care.” He swallows. “It’s not like I didn’t wish it was you. I don’t even-“<br/>
<br/>
“But it’s not about her, or your intentions with her, or whatever you did with her!” He repeats in frustration.<br/>
“Then what?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m only tired.” Louis shakes his head. “I’m tired of pretending that I like Eleanor and having to touch her and kiss her and spend time with her. I’m tired of not being able to talk to you on public, of having to sneak out to pick you up, of not being able to cheer you up when you get caught in your mind because you’re too anxious to interact with people, of pretending you’re not there; because you’re there, Harry. You’re-“ His voice breaks a little. “You’re everywhere. You’re everywhere yet I can’t look at you, I can’t dance with you, I can’t talk to you, because then everybody will notice how much you mean to me. Because I suck at pretending that I only want you as a mate. Is there something wrong with that? No, obviously not.” He pauses for a bit, closing his eyes, trying to calm himself down.<br/>
<br/>
“Except that I’ll probably get expelled from the team if they find out, and I rely on them to get into uni eventually.” His voice sounds shaky at this point. “They will make our lives impossible at school, and dad will kick me out of the house if he doesn’t kill me first. That’s why I’m bitter, Harry. I wish I didn’t care about those things, about losing almost everything. Because I know the team will move on and I know mum won’t leave him if he kicks me out. I know it. I’m well aware of how insignificant I can be, so them is all I’ve got for now. Including my friends.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry feels his heart on his throat. “Then you deserve a better team, and better friends.” He whispers.<br/>
<br/>
“I have you. I don’t want to lose you either. You give me the strength to deal with everything, you bring me joy, Harry.” His voice still shaky, talking low. “I got scared when you saw us because I thought that was it. That you were going to hate me because, to be fair, I hated myself too.”<br/>
<br/>
“You know it’s not your fault.”<br/>
<br/>
Of course it wasn’t about his stupid moment with Molly.<br/>
He's not the only one having a hard time about the matter. Like, yeah, he literally had a panic attack when someone he didn’t like tried to touch him.<br/>
But Louis has been going through it for almost a year now, if not longer.<br/>
And he feels so selfish for even thinking he was mad at him personally because of his little stunt. Of course it was about him.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s nice to hear that, for a change.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis seems incredibly small, holding back tears with his arms crossed. Harry doesn’t wait and runs to hug him. He doesn’t return the gesture.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m a total arse, am I?”<br/>
<br/>
He breathes against his shirt. “No, I just suck at communicating properly.”<br/>
<br/>
“You try your best.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis sighs. “I wanna break up with her.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry lets go and looks at him, bit scared. “I- I’m not going to ask why, I mean, I get it. But-“<br/>
<br/>
He shakes his head. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t pretend I like her anymore. I can’t keep denying what I am, what I-“<br/>
<br/>
And everything else stops existing for Harry. Every single person, place, feeling. The rest of the world vanishes at instant.<br/>
<br/>
Because Louis starts crying.<br/>
<br/>
And he looks so vulnerable, so tired.<br/>
He repeats “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” over and over again as Harry tightens his arms around him, pressing little kisses on his neck and his shoulder. He feels his own shirt slowly getting wet by his tears, as Louis quietly tries to not sob so loud.<br/>
Harry himself feels like he’s about to cry too.<br/>
He slowly starts to move to his bed and they sit, Louis never leaving his spot in Harry’s neck. He caresses his head, his fingers stroking his hair. Time on hold.<br/>
He can’t help but to wonder again what else is going on with him, what else he’s not telling. He has noticed how dark circles have grown under his blue eyes lately, how his hands get sweaty before he goes back home. How he’s constantly asking to stay a bit longer. He doesn’t complain, he loves having him around, but somehow going back to his own place feels like he’s going to war.<br/>
<br/>
And he doesn’t deserve that.<br/>
Nobody does.<br/>
<br/>
“Lou?”<br/>
<br/>
“M-hm?”<br/>
<br/>
“Is there something else happening that you’re not telling me?”<br/>
<br/>
He stays quiet, for about 30 seconds. “One cry at a time, alright?”<br/>
<br/>
He knew it.<br/>
But he won’t push him, either.<br/>
<br/>
“Can you look at me for a second?”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t look cute when I cry. My eyes get all puffy and my nose gets red.” He talks, again, against his shirt. It feels like he’s hiding from the rest of the world.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t care.” Harry softens his voice.<br/>
<br/>
“Hm-m.”<br/>
<br/>
“Please?”<br/>
<br/>
“Nope.”<br/>
<br/>
“Just for a bit?”<br/>
<br/>
“Hmm-m.”<br/>
<br/>
So Harry starts improvising.<br/>
He suddenly remembers this time when Louis said he’d love it if life were just a musical. How easy it’d be to explain things, to solve world’s problems.<br/>
It was a random comment, he knows, but he really wants to cheer him up.<br/>
So he whispers the perfect Red Hot Chili Peppers song. Because Louis loves them.<br/>
<br/>
He starts with a few “do-do-dos’” to the rhythm.<br/>
<br/>
“What are you doing?”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Sometimes I feel like I don’t have a partner. Sometimes I feel like my only friend.”<br/>
<br/>
</em>Louis giggles.<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Is the city I live in, the city of angels.”<br/>
<br/>
</em>“You’re a fool.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Lonely as I am, together we cry.”<br/>
<br/>
</em>He lifts and dries the wet out of his face. Indeed, his eyes got a little puffy and his nose is a bit red, but he looks adorable, whatsoever. Harry holds his face as if he’s holding a diamond, gives him a kiss on the corner of his lips and brushes his nose against his cheek.<br/>
<br/>
“Your hands smell like tangerines.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s because I was eating tangerines.” He nods, mocking him.<br/>
<br/>
Louis rolls his eyes. “I need a tissue.”<br/>
<br/>
Then, he gets close to his ear.<br/>
<br/>
“I have an idea.”<br/>
<br/>
“What?” Louis scrunches his nose.<br/>
<br/>
“Let’s wait until the semester’s finished. It’s only, what, three? Four weeks? Then we can go somewhere together for the break. I don’t know. We could go to the Reading Festival, if you want. Maybe Leeds, now that it’s their first year. Just you and me. Some good bands, different people around us. I heard a certain band you like is coming too. We’ll have fun.” He smiles. “We can also try to be friends publicly again, if you want to. Mitch and Sarah will graduate so I’ll be alone, and it’ll be inevitable for us to hang out. I’m a good actor, I can pretend all you want, but only if you cuddle me at home in recompense. We’ll have to pretend ‘til what, next year? It’ll be nothing.” Harry meets his eyes and snaps his fingers. “Time will pass like -that- and then? Then we’ll leave this fucking city. We’ll go somewhere nice, where open-minded, free people live, like-“<br/>
<br/>
“Like California, Mr. California-kind-of-person?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry sighs and blushes. “I don’t care, as long as we leave.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis closes his eyes, as if he’s trying to picture the entire proposition, and takes a deep breath. “Let’s take it one step at a time.”<br/>
<br/>
“You were the one who wanted to come out to the world from the word go.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know. You’re right. Let’s finish the semester first. I’ll try to figure how to break up with her without being too suspicious, you know, to keep it in good terms.”<br/>
<br/>
He nods enthusiastically. “Okay.”<br/>
<br/>
“And we can try being friends publicly, I can try. Maybe bully you a little bit.”<br/>
<br/>
“Okay.”<br/>
<br/>
“And I could drive us to Reading. Or Leeds.”<br/>
<br/>
“We could go to Leeds, it’s closer.”<br/>
<br/>
“Leeds it is then. Do you know when it is?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry presses his lips. “August.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis laughs and sniffles his nose. “What do we do on the meantime?”<br/>
<br/>
The blue from his eyes are clear as a cloudless sky. Fixed into Harry’s emerald greens. He could be preaching lies about heaven and hell and he would believe him. That’s how much Louis trust him.<br/>
<br/>
“We tell each other how we feel. We take care of each other. We are each other’s safe space. We don’t become our parents; we talk things through. We trust each other, we speak if we feel sad. We ask for help if we need it, ok? We exist. Together.”<br/>
<br/>
“We exist?”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s debatable, but yeah.” Harry is well aware how weird that sounds, but he doesn’t have a way to express it clearly. They exist, they survive, they keep trying because in that resides bravery. <em>To be oneself in a world that explicitly claims to hate them is brave. That’s why Louis is brave. That’s why he’s brave too. Yup, drunk thoughts.</em><br/>
<br/>
“You’re a fool.” He giggles and puts a curl behind his ear. “But you’re my favorite fool.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis gives him a little kiss on his lips.<br/>
It always feels like it’s their first time, yet it also feels they’ve been doing this for ages. It’s always the familiar heat on his chest, his heart skipping a beat, the way he feels himself breathing again when he opens his mouth to allow him closer. It’s like the world suddenly makes sense, like there’s no other season than just spring and summer. Spring and summer. There’s no winter on his life anymore. Like a symphony of tuned instruments, perfectly in sync.<br/>
Harry believes him to be every beautiful feeling on the planet.<br/>
<br/>
They get rid of their clothes quickly, only to sleep on their underwear. Sometimes he doesn’t get how their bodies fit together so well with no effort, no discomfort. It’s like his hands always manage to find the perfect spot to lay on, how their legs intertwine like puzzle pieces.<br/>
<br/>
“Lou?”<br/>
<br/>
“Mmh?”<br/>
<br/>
“You couldn't be insignificant even if you tried.” He hears him titter, so he keeps going. “Lou?”<br/>
<br/>
“Mmh?”<br/>
<br/>
“I know can’t promise anything about the future, but we’ll be alright. I know. I just know. We’ll find a way, okay?”<br/>
<br/>
Louis kisses his shoulder and repeats. “We’ll be alright.”<br/>
<br/>
And they were alright.<br/>
Again, only for a while.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. "The Moon Song / Crimson and Clover"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>"it's a church of burnt romances,</i>
  <br/>
  <i>and i'm too far gone to pray"</i>
</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wanna give a massive thank you to my pseudo-official-beta and lovely friend Mer because she's awesome and encouraged me to keep writing this little story.<br/>Also a huge shootout to Monica, for her amazing suggestions and support &lt;3<br/>And again, thank you all so much for your lovely comments. I appreciate them, and they motivate me to keep doing this. I'm quite insecure, so I'm so grateful someone's giving me a chance. </p><p>Thank you, thank you, thank you.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“May I see your hands, please?”<br/>
<br/>
“Sure.”<br/>
<br/>
Her hands feel warm. She examines his nails, fingers and palms, looking carefully, reading into something he’s totally ignorant about. The flickering candle lights reflecting on her rings. She’s got dark long hair and deep brown eyes. She’s probably his mother’s age.<br/>
The place smells like lavender, patchouli, myrrh and fresh-made tea. <em>What’s people’s obsession with patchouli, lately?<br/>
</em>A subtle sitar improvisation comes from her radio, which makes the room feel even more magical. It’s relaxing.<br/>
<br/>
“Now put them up, like this.” She puts her hands in front of her, so Harry imitates her. “Interesting.”<br/>
<br/>
“What?”<br/>
<br/>
“Are you a musician?”<br/>
<br/>
He squints his eyes. “Yeah. How do you know that?”<br/>
<br/>
“Easy. Long fingers, calluses on the fingertips, short nails. You’ve got air hands. You’re a smart one.”<br/>
<br/>
He wants to ask more about it, but he decides to let her do her thing. She shuffles her cards, closes her eyes and mutters words beyond his listening; she leaves the cards upside down the table, with a little amethyst on top of them.<br/>
<br/>
“Wrists, please.” With a frown, she puts drops of liquid from a blue little bottle where his veins are seen. “I’m putting a little of lilac oil to help us to connect better. I need you with clear energies.”<br/>
<br/>
He nods, hypnotized by the way she moves. She’s like a cat, every movement turns elegant, carefully detailed. She rubs it and then she puts a drop on her own wrist.<br/>
<br/>
“Give it a sniff. Good, isn’t it?”<br/>
<br/>
It feels revitalizing, and he’s not sure if it’s pure suggestion or the feeling’s real. He nods.<br/>
<br/>
“Name and birthday?”<br/>
<br/>
“Harry. Styles. February 1<sup>st</sup>.”<br/>
She smirks. “Mmh. Air hands, you see?”<br/>
<br/>
It has no logic, but he smiles back anyway. She shuffles the tarot cards again, mumbling his name and birthday. Harry has never got a tarot reading before, at least, not a proper one. One of Gemma’s friends told him when he was 15 that he was going to be a rockstar one day. Obviously, she was joking.<br/>
<br/>
The woman divides the deck in three.<br/>
<br/>
“Pick one.”<br/>
<br/>
Naturally, he overthinks about it; gives himself time enough to make a wise choice. Even if it’s probably a scam.<br/>
The middle one it is.<br/>
<br/>
She puts her hands on top of them and looks him right in the eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“What do you need to know?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry takes a deep breath. Even if he came in only drawn by curiosity, he’s taking it pretty seriously. “I’m… seeing someone, and-“<br/>
<br/>
“You want to know how it’ll go?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah.”<br/>
<br/>
“Alright, love. Tell me a bit more about her.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s a ‘him’”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, pardon me.” She takes it natural, like a simple mistake. “What’s his name?”<br/>
<br/>
“Louis.”<br/>
<br/>
“Do you happen to know when’s his birthday?”<br/>
<br/>
“Eh… December 24<sup>th</sup>.”<br/>
<br/>
She revolves the cards from the middle deck, putting three cards on top.<br/>
<br/>
“Let’s see where you are first.”<br/>
<br/>
She turns around the first card:<br/>
<br/>
“Interesting. Let’s see the other one.” <em><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Oh, look at you!”<strong><em><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</em></strong><br/>
<em>The lovers. I mean, it’s pretty obvious.<br/>
</em><br/>
“You’re a bit head over heels for him, aren’t you?”<br/>
<br/>
He sighs and blushes. “A little bit, yeah.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well, it’s mutual, for sure. He was feeling down, misunderstood, until you came into his life. Now, you bring him joy, peace, beauty, a certain kind of freedom he hasn’t fully developed yet. Not on his own, at least. He feels important because he has you, someone that cares for him. That cares about what he says and does, and I think it’s greatly beneficial for his own self-acceptance. You’re kind of new in this relationship thing, so don’t worry on risking yourself a little when necessary. The fool, you see? If you’ve been waiting to try new things, anything, this is it, this is your sign. Don’t be afraid to trust him, he surely trusts you.”<br/>
<br/>
He looks at the cards, and it feels like they’re looking back at him. “He trusts me?”<br/>
<br/>
“Pick another one.”<br/>
<br/>
He takes another card from the deck and turns it side-up.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
“Hmm, there’s clearly something he’s not telling you, not because he doesn’t trust you but because he’s quite intransigent with those personal problems. He doesn’t want you to worry too much because he thinks he can handle everything by himself. Quite stubborn, I see. Something about his family, perhaps? The mother?”<br/>
<br/>
“He’s been having problems at home.”<br/>
<br/>
“I see. I don’t really think he’ll tell you what’s wrong, not yet. I think these problems - or person – will show themselves on their own. You need to see him, to hear him. He won’t talk but he most certainly will express it, maybe through actions or body language.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry tries to remember if there’s something else Louis’ been acting weird about lately. <em>Nope, problems-at-home is all I know.<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Do you have another question? About him?”<br/>
<em><br/>
</em>“Yeah. I am a bit insecure-“ He titters. “And I know it’s not alright to ask about it but… do we have a future together? A good one?”<br/>
<br/>
She gives him a sweet smile and makes him to take three more cards.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
She sighs in disappointment. “Oh, dear. Well, obviously there’s people who will try to pull you apart. Not only from each other but from yourselves; they’ll try to make you feel that what you feel is wrong and unmoral. You have to understand that each and every negative word that comes from them is purely based on fear and jealousy, nothing else. I’m afraid Louis- Louis isn’t it?” Harry nods. “I think he will struggle more with this. He’ll have to put a balance between his image and his desire, his wants and needs. He’ll have to choose, and I- I don’t think he will be able to choose himself first. Lord, I don’t even think they’ll let him choose <em>by</em> himself.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry’s heart shrinks. He knows this might not be real, it’s pure randomness after all, but there’s something deep inside his mind that just knows it. “So we will break up?”<br/>
<br/>
“I think it’ll make you grow apart.”<br/>
<br/>
And, for a reason, that exact phrase resonates exactly with his fear.<br/>
<br/>
“And that will be it? For us, I mean?”<br/>
<br/>
She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, using a soft tone. “Let’s take another one, shall we?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry puts his hand over the deck of cards, connecting with his gut, visualizing a future that hasn’t happened yet.<br/>
<br/>
He takes it and puts it on top of The Tower.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
The woman smiles fondly into his choice. “You’ll be alright. It’s a rare thing, to get The Lovers and The Wheel of Fortune in one reading, but you’ve got it. Both side-up.”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t know what that means.”<br/>
<br/>
“It means that you’re probably meant to be.”<br/>
<br/>
His heart skips another beat. He hates it. Not because it’s a bitter sweet reading, but because he believes it. He doesn’t like to admit how he’s been feeling about Louis lately but it’s pure, heavenly comfort. It’s like he’s known him since forever but, at the same time, everything’s new and exciting.<br/>
He doesn’t want it to end, not even for a bit.<br/>
<br/>
“But… we’ll grow apart.”<br/>
<br/>
“That is what makes it so interesting and special about you both. I see it- I feel, no matter what happens, no matter who, you’ll be able to find each other again. What I mean with this is that I don’t think he’s here just for a moment, Harry. I wish I could tell you more, but my guides are telling me I should let you learn and figure it out by yourself.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m speechless.”<br/>
<br/>
She nods. “You have a beautiful, open energy. You’re transparent in your own way, and I think that’s one of the things that attracts him deeply, so let it be. Be vulnerable, tell him what you feel, when you feel it. Don’t be afraid. I know-“ She titters. “I know it’s useless for me to tell you this, but you’re still young. You can make mistakes. He’s certainly not one of them.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry swallows. “Mum told me the exact same thing.”<br/>
<br/>
“Then listen to her. Listen to yourself. Trust your gut. Trust him and know that, even if it looks like it, he won’t do anything on purpose to hurt you.”<br/>
<br/>
“How do you know about all of those things? Like, from cards?”<br/>
<br/>
“Studying, of course.” She begins to gather the cards in a single deck. “Years and years of experience and well, it depends on how open you are. You give me the impression of being clairvoyant, so listen to your gut. I mean it. It’ll save you from so many unpleasant experiences. Do you have trouble sleeping at night?”<br/>
<br/>
He chuckles. “Yeah, I do.”<br/>
<br/>
The woman turns around, opens one of the drawers in her mahogany cabinet and takes out another blue little bottle. “Put a few drops of this on your temples before going to sleep. It’s lavender and melissa. It’ll help your nerves.”<br/>
<br/>
It's a small tear-shaped blue bottle with a cork as a lid. Harry absolutely loves it.<br/>
<br/>
“Thank you so much.”<br/>
<br/>
He grabs his jacket and looks for the money to pay her, then she shakes his hand firmly. When he starts walking out, she interrupts him.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh – Harry? Don’t overthink it, enjoy it. Learn from it, alright?”<br/>
<br/>
He thanks her again and walks out. An odd feeling wandering around his mind.<br/>
<br/>
It's 7:23, the sky is clear. The sun has no intentions to set up.<br/>
It's a warm July 2<sup>nd</sup>, Friday evening in London.<br/>
<br/>
Louis is waiting for him outside, sitting in one of the benches. A big neon sign that says “Psychic”, and “Tarot Readings” starts to light up, reflecting on his hair. He’s reading a book.<br/>
<br/>
“So we’re into… Hermann Hesse now?”<br/>
<br/>
He folds the corner of the page he’s reading and closes it, quite dramatically. “Excuse you, it’s Steppenwolf.”<br/>
<br/>
Since he struggles a bit with the pronunciation, Harry mocks him. “It’s what?”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, shut up. How did it go in there?”<br/>
<br/>
“Fantastic. She saw my future very clearly.” Harry sits next to him.<br/>
<br/>
He puts a curl behind his ear, to then stroke his cheek with his thumb. “And what did she say?”<br/>
<br/>
“She said I’m going to die filthy rich and alone, in a little house by the coast of Italy.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right. And I’ll get married next year.”<br/>
<br/>
“Who knows?”<br/>
<br/>
Louis smirks, biting his lower lip. “I know we’re not out yet but I’m not that desperate to hide it.”<br/>
<br/>
He giggles. “Did Sarah call?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, she said they’re still figuring out how to make the juice properly. They don’t wanna mess it up.”<br/>
<br/>
“They better don’t. We paid a lot for it.”<br/>
<br/>
“We?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry nods. “You paid a lot for it.”<br/>
<br/>
“There we go.” He puts his book on the bag. “Do you want to keep walking around or should we go home?”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Home. </em><br/>
<br/>
“Mitch’s home.”<br/>
<br/>
“Right, yeah.”<br/>
<br/>
“Let’s go home. Do you know if they cooked anything?”<br/>
<br/>
“They ordered Chinese.”<br/>
<br/>
“Mmh, I should’ve cooked before we went out.”<br/>
<br/>
They start walking, their hands resisting the impulse to hold each other.<br/>
<br/>
“We can order if you want to, I don’t know if they finished it all.”<br/>
<br/>
“Nah, it’s ok. I’m craving for some trifle, though.”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
It's exciting, being in London with Louis. Somewhere they can walk around together, not afraid of bumping into a familiar face.<br/>
<br/>
They’ve been planning this trip for two weeks. Louis’ excuse to his friends and girlfriend was, quote, a quick visit to his grandparents. He told his mum and sisters he was going to London to celebrate the end of the term for the weekend and begged them not to say Eleanor a word about it.<br/>
Of course, people were completely clueless that they came all the way here to the London Pride.<br/>
It was Sarah’s idea, actually. She told Harry and they wouldn’t shut up about it, until Mitch finally offered his place to stay because his dad has a flat near Soho.<br/>
They drove like 4 hours right when school finished on Thursday so they would have some proper rest to enjoy and drink mushroom tea on Friday, go to the parade on Saturday and be back on Sunday night.<br/>
Louis staying at Harry’s house is just routine by now. He also made a whole plan to do so, with Fizzy and Gemma’s help: Since <em>Eleanor is busy with uni so she can’t visit often </em>is a totally valid excuse, and conveniently Eleanor lost her phone so she had to buy a new one – Harry totally thanks karma for this spectacular chance—, he gave Gemma’s number to his parents and Fizzy’s number to Eleanor. Why, you might ask. If mum randomly decides to call Eleanor to know about Louis, Gemma will pretend to be her. If Eleanor calls, Fizzy will answer and invent an excuse. It’s perfect.<br/>
<br/>
And yes, Félicité now knows about it too, because she bumped into them snogging at the lift. She’s totally supportive, though; Harry found out she’s been helping Louis for a while.<br/>
<br/>
Which totally confirms his theory: She’s in the “coolest sibling” category with Gemma.<br/>
Lottie doesn’t know about it yet, but only because she has zero sense of containment. Louis thinks she’ll find out about him and Harry soon, mostly because now he can’t stop himself from being obvious.<br/>
<br/>
Sleeping together 3 to 4 nights a week doesn’t help. At all.<br/>
And this weekend won’t be the exception.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
The Clash’s Combat Rock –specifically “Straight to Hell”– is blasting through some brand new speakers in Mitch’s living room. His flat is quite similar to Harry’s, but this one is bigger. Bit fancier. It has three rooms and a big balcony.<br/>
<br/>
Sarah, Harry and Louis are looking straight into the jar.<br/>
<br/>
“Aaaand done.” Louis checks his watch. “20 minutes. Is it ready?”<br/>
<br/>
She stirs it carefully. “Maybe? I swear I haven’t tried them like this before. Mitch, care to check?”<br/>
<br/>
He puts down his cigarette and walks to the dining table. He holds the jar up and smells it. “I don’t know, I’ll bring the cups anyway.”<br/>
<br/>
The green tea is hot, but not boiling. He strains the mushrooms from the lemon juice and adds it to each cup, all casual. All eyes fixed on the action.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m scared.”<br/>
<br/>
Sarah chuckles. “It’s mushroom tea, Harry. We’re not going to rob a bank or something.”<br/>
<br/>
“What if I want to rob a bank later.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s not how it works, love.” Louis puts an arm around him.<br/>
<br/>
“How do you know?”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s not LSD.” Mitch finishes filling the last cup.<br/>
<br/>
“Exactly. This is different.”<br/>
<br/>
Each has their own cup. Sarah puts a little of ginger on her own tea.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
Mitch drinks it all first.<br/>
<br/>
“Easy, mate. It’s not water.”<br/>
<br/>
“It won’t work anyways. I’m sure we messed it up.”<br/>
<br/>
Sarah follows him and drinks it up. “Mmh. I don’t care. This is not that bad.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry stares deep into the cup’s bottom, questioning if it’s the right thing to do. He wonders what his mum would think.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you alright? We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis’ eyes are comforting, as usual. “Fuck it. Let’s do it together.”<br/>
<br/>
And like that, all the cups are quickly emptied.<br/>
<br/>
“What do we do now?”<br/>
<br/>
“Now we wait.” Mitch lays on the sofa, comfortable on his answer, expecting a long wait.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
It hits them in 21 minutes, almost at the same time, exactly when “She Has Funny Cars” by  Jefferson Airplane starts playing.<br/>
They’re all laying on the blue polyester carpet, looking at the ceiling, when Harry feels goosebumps. His fingertips playing with the fabric, as the ceiling appears taller and taller. He wonders what would happen if suddenly gravity stopped working.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Would I hit the ceiling straight up? Would I fell beyond? Would I start floating?<br/>
<br/>
</em>He jumps.<br/>
And then realizes he was the only one laying on the floor. Well, not really the floor. The carpet. His head was resting on Louis’ lap. His eyes are looking into the changing lights of the stereo, analyzing them.<br/>
Mitch and Sarah, sitting at the sofa, appear to be doing the same task.<br/>
<br/>
“Who decided to play this album?”<br/>
<br/>
“Mine. My idea.” Sarah responds, pointing at her nose with eyes still on the stereo.<br/>
<br/>
Louis is the only one who notices Harry’s sudden move. The blue from his eyes almost nonexistent, only huge black pupils. That’s the first thing he notices.<br/>
<br/>
“Look at you.”<br/>
<br/>
“What?” The song gives him tickles on his right ear.<br/>
<br/>
“Your eyes.”<br/>
<br/>
“My eyes?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah.” He starts laughing like he just told the funniest joke ever. Harry sits next to him and leans his head on his shoulder. He smells like one of his pillows at home, maybe because that’s the one he uses all the time.<br/>
<br/>
“I wanna go for a sprint.”<br/>
<br/>
“Right now?”<br/>
<br/>
“Right now.”<br/>
<br/>
Sarah literally leaves the second she says it, almost stepping on Harry’s hand. She puts her shoes, grabs her keys and leaves.<br/>
<br/>
“Did she just-“<br/>
<br/>
“She’ll come back.” Mitch nods.<br/>
<br/>
Louis keeps laughing, which makes the situation sitcom-like. “I feel- What if our parents listened to the same album to get high? Like, when they were teenagers.”<br/>
<br/>
“I can’t think about my parents as teenagers.”  <br/>
<br/>
“Mine probably did. Mum once told me I was conceived on acid.” Mitch nods again. Eyes closed.<br/>
<br/>
Harry holds a laugh putting his hand on his mouth. It smells like lemon. <em>Like yellow. My hand smells like yellow. </em><br/>
<br/>
“Are you alright?”<br/>
<br/>
“My hand smells like yellow.”<br/>
<br/>
“Is that a thing?”<br/>
<br/>
“Apparently.” He puts his hand on Louis’ face.<br/>
<br/>
“It smells like green.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry shakes his head. “No, you’re wrong. It’s my yellow hand, it’s yellow.”<br/>
<br/>
“Let me smell it.” Mitch grabs his wrist and inhales. “It’s more like orange.”<br/>
<br/>
“You’re wrong too.”<br/>
<br/>
“My hand doesn’t have a smell.” Louis frowns.<br/>
<br/>
Sarah comes back pouting. “I forgot we were here. Leaving the house it’s usually easier when you’re not in a flat. I don’t like flats.”<br/>
<br/>
“What happened?”<br/>
<br/>
“The lift took forever to come up.” She says, completely disappointed.<br/>
<br/>
“Dear, you left like a minute ago.”<br/>
<br/>
“No, no. I know it took forever because I counted.”<br/>
<br/>
“You counted?”<br/>
<br/>
“I mean, we were listening to the first song when I went out and now where listening to Somebody To Love.”<br/>
<br/>
They stare at each other, realizing how high they’re. The room breaks into loud, distorted laughter.<br/>
Harry notices how much Louis shines when he laughs. How life feels easier, lighter. He could hear him laugh just like he hears his favorite albums, sacredly every Sunday.<br/>
<br/>
The first hour goes completely unnoticed. Started with them talking about smells and Louis playing with Mitch’s cat’s hair and finished with them eating bananas and dancing without their shoes on by the carpet.<br/>
Shit, even Mitch is talking.<br/>
No, really, he’s talking about how a Beach Boy was related to Charles Manson and how he spent like a hundred thousand dollars on maintaining cult hippies at his mansion on the 60’s, besides paying for their treatment for chlamydia.<br/>
<br/>
“My only question here is why, Mitch. Why that story?”<br/>
<br/>
“Sarah mentioned Manson and I read that story last week.”<br/>
<br/>
“Marilyn, love.”<br/>
<br/>
“Monroe?”<br/>
<br/>
“No, as in Manson.”<br/>
<br/>
“Marilyn Manson?” He was having a serious hard time.<br/>
<br/>
“You know him. We’ve discussed him before, at Sarah’s.”<br/>
<br/>
And it clicks. “Oh, Marilyn Manson. Yeah, I get it.”<br/>
<br/>
Of course, they quickly forget the main subject they were talking about on the first place.<br/>
<br/>
Next thing Harry knows he’s dancing barefoot in the carpet to “You Could Be More As You Are” by Saada Bonaire. It’s from an album Sarah bought at the flea market, and she hasn’t stopped talking about ever since. It’s unique and unknown. The seller told her it was a single-album band. Sarah understands it as a manifesto on its own.<br/>
He's shaking a little bit.<br/>
Mitch and Sarah are in the balcony watching the sunset, and Louis is nowhere to be seen. Harry, dancing, starts looking for him. The cold ceramic floor makes him feel like he’s walking on a cloud.<br/>
<br/>
“What’chu doin’?” He leans on the guest bedroom door, still shaking a little bit.<br/>
<br/>
He's laying down in bed, with his own hands on his tummy. “I don’t know. I think I called you here but you were dancing, I didn’t want to disturb you so I came here to check if the ceiling was also going up in here.”<br/>
<br/>
“That happened for me too!”<br/>
<br/>
He barely lifts his head to look at him. “Come here, I’m feeling lonely.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry throws himself in the bed. The white sheets feel soft against his face, as he gets closer to Louis.<br/>
<br/>
“This song makes me feel like going to Miami, renting an ugly apartment with a view to the beach, having fruits and pancakes as breakfast, going to the gayest club there, smoking expensive pot, getting a massage, dancing naked in a hotel room, swimming on a pool at night and drinking a Cosmo.”<br/>
<br/>
“At the same time?”<br/>
<br/>
“I mean – yeah. Yeah, definitely at the same time.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis smirks. “We can start right now if you feel like it.”<br/>
<br/>
And Harry smirks back. “Start from where?”<br/>
<br/>
“You know, we can pack up now and leave for Miami.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, yeah, that. Miami.”<br/>
<br/>
“Did you have something else in mind?”<br/>
<br/>
“Not really.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis turns to lay on his side, near Harry’s face. “You’re such a beautiful boy.”<br/>
<br/>
His cheeks blush instantly, tittering in response. “What was that for? I didn’t do anything.”<br/>
<br/>
He doesn’t expect the kiss either. At least, <em>that</em> kiss.<br/>
Maybe it’s because he’s terribly high but it feels way more intense than just the regular snogging they usually do. It’s slow-motioned and sweet; he takes his time to feel him. He sees and feels in colors: bold reds and velvety pinks when he cups his face into his hands. He feels a hummingbird floating around inside his chest.<br/>
Maybe that’s what love feels like, after all.<br/>
Maybe it’s too early to tell.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you having fun?”<br/>
<br/>
“I am the embodiment of joy right now.” Harry closes his eyes and smiles, inhaling deeply.<br/>
<br/>
Louis caresses his face; his thumb stroking his eyebrows, going down to his cheeks and getting close to his lips. He holds his chin up a bit, eyes fixed on every action, every detail of his face. Harry just lets him do anything he wants, hypnotized by his pupils. His fingertip touches his already parted lips, mentally asking for him to open his mouth.<br/>
<br/>
And that’s what Harry does.<br/>
<br/>
He feels his cold thumb on his teeth and the tip of his tongue, pressing down so he opens wider. Louis’ mouth ajar, hissing the moment he decides to suck his finger, and it’s there again. That lustful look. His breathing gets shaky as he moves his finger inside Harry’s mouth, slowly, until his lips are around his knuckle. He pulls in and out and it feels so <em>obscene</em>, but he loves it.<br/>
<br/>
“We should go out!” Sarah shouts, breaking the moment. Obviously.<br/>
<br/>
<em>For fuck’s sake.</em><br/>
<br/>
Louis quickly takes his thumb out in panic and giggles. “Go where?”<br/>
<br/>
“To dance!” She comes into the room and jumps straight into the bed. “We’re in Soho. It’s perfect. It’s meant to be.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry takes a glance to Louis as he accommodates his trousers, holding a smile. “Maybe, maybe. What do you think?”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s fine by me, but I don’t want to drive or anything. I’m too – I can’t.”<br/>
<br/>
“We don’t have to. There’s a gay club a few streets away. We could go there.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry squints. “Why does it have to be specifically gay?”<br/>
<br/>
“Because of the music?” She squints back.<br/>
<br/>
And again, next thing Harry knows is he’s at a gay club at Soho. On a Friday. At 11:34 p.m.<br/>
It's a mess.<br/>
The place is bigger than Berlin’s, therefore the music’s louder. There are less varied outfits and hairstyles but somehow the place smells <em>way</em> better. The synthesizer from “99 Luftballons” gives him goosebumps. They buy three bottles of water as they try to make their way into the sea of people, all dancing completely unaware of space.<br/>
The lights are bright pinks and purples, reflecting on the big disco ball attached to the sky. There are mostly men there, some of them shirtless, of all ages. The ambient is different too, more cheerful. Liberating, even.<br/>
There’s absolutely no other purpose than to have fun.<br/>
And well, people clap and cheer after every song. Harry on a normal context would’ve complained about it, but he doesn’t care.<br/>
<br/>
At least here he can dance with Louis.<br/>
<br/>
They’re screaming the lyrics to “Heaven Is a Place on Earth” by Belinda Carlisle when he notices how happy Louis looks. How younger, even. He takes his hand and they actually intertwine their fingers together, in public, for the first time.<br/>
Harry’s heart could burst from happiness.<br/>
He could live high on mushrooms holding Louis’ hand forever, if necessary.<br/>
<br/>
When Louis stop to drink some water, Sarah decides it’s a great idea to squeeze the bottle, which leads to a semi-water fight and their clothes end up wet. Their laughs echoes in Harry’s mind like a mirror. Everything feels like a mirror, a memory he will revisit again eventually.<br/>
<br/>
Everything feels blue and pink, and green and purple, and blue and pink again. And his wet shirt feels too hot, and too cold when he moves. Louis looks like an angel dancing so careless, as if no one’s watching him. His wet hair falling on his forehead.<br/>
<br/>
Harry holds his hand and spins him, which turns into this messy move that makes him laugh louder. “A Little Respect” by Erasure starts playing, and he freezes for a solid minute. Louis looks beautiful under pink lights. Literal butterflies on the pit of his stomach.<br/>
He doesn’t say anything, of course.<br/>
<em><br/>
<br/>
</em>He looks around to the other couples dancing, they all look either incredibly happy or too wasted.  <em><br/>
</em><br/>
The minute Sarah and Mitch go up to share a smoke in the middle of “Like A Prayer” –which Harry finds disrespectful to Madonna, obviously— he grabs Louis’ wet shirt and tugs him close.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you having fun?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m the embodiment of joy right now.” He mocks him, smirking.<br/>
<br/>
There’s something pleasing about kissing him on public; it feels like eating the cookies your mum told you not to, like eating sugar straight from the jar.<br/>
He knows no one’s looking, but he turns around to check anyways.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m feeling a bit sober.”<br/>
<br/>
“Your eyes are telling me otherwise.” Harry responds next to his ear. His arms around his neck.<br/>
<br/>
“Have you seen yours? You have literal black holes instead of pupils.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis’ hands place under his shirt, resting on his waist. Harry smiles and kisses him in response.<br/>
Harry could always kiss him in response to anything, actually.<br/>
Their breath starts going fast very quickly when their tongues meet, all wet and sweet.<br/>
He doesn’t know if it’s the freedom the place gives them, maybe it’s the being-seeing-feeling-so-high, but the way he hums when Harry pecks his lower lip arouses him in every sense of the word.<br/>
<br/>
They sleeping together occasionally doesn’t mean they’ve taken their relationship far beyond handjobs and grinding. Yes, is almost-heavenly, and Harry’s not complaining at all, but something –maybe the fact that he’s a teenager and Louis often brings out on him this yet undiscovered horny-self —makes him want to go further.<br/>
He's simply ready, at least, he feels <em>ready.<br/>
<br/>
</em>When the DJ starts playing “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)”, he looks for his hand and holds it as he breaks the kiss. Louis looks and feels confused the moment Harry leads him to what looks like the bathroom, which for their fortune is not that full. He takes him inside of one of the stalls.<br/>
<br/>
When Harry shuts and locks the door, breathing in and out with his lips slightly parted. He’s praying this sudden courage lasts ‘til he’s done finishing what he started at Mitch’s house.<br/>
<br/>
He wants to suck him off.<br/>
<br/>
Louis’ eyes widen when he stands in front of him, staring directly into his eyes as he kisses him again. Slowly. Then he rests his head against the white, hand-scratched partition, letting himself enjoy Harry’s closeness. Harry takes his time, pressing little kisses on his cheek, getting to the familiar spot on his neck. His skin irradiating heat, as he tentatively sucks down his collarbone.<br/>
<br/>
“Mmh. Easy, there. I don’t want a love bite.”<br/>
<br/>
“I didn’t hear you right, you want a love bite?”<br/>
<br/>
Louis chuckles, shaking his head as Harry daringly starts unbuttoning his trousers.<br/>
<br/>
“Harry?”<br/>
<br/>
He hums against his neck.<br/>
<br/>
“May I wonder what you have in mind?”<br/>
<br/>
He looks at him with a cheeky smile on his face, decorated by his dimples. He dips his hand under the waistband of his boxers, not teasing him first like he usually does, never breaking the stare. He wants to <em>see</em> him react to it. To him jerking him off, so shameless.<br/>
Louis inhales –struggles to inhale, moreso—and cusses quietly. Is it too weird doing this on a public place? Yeah, probably, but he doesn’t feel like waiting; not when he’s stopped himself from doing it before because of how an inexpert he feels. Louis has done these things before, Harry hasn’t, and for now he doesn’t feel it so much as an inconvenient.<br/>
He shoves his trousers and boxers down, and Louis slowly realizes what’s about to happen.<br/>
<br/>
“Love, are you sure? I mean – we could go home if you want to.”<br/>
<br/>
He blushes and smiles. “Why?”<br/>
<br/>
And his giggle is all the permission he needs.<br/>
He gets down, the ceramic feeling cold and solid against his knees, eyes never leaving his. Louis swallows, biting his own lip.<br/>
<br/>
<em>It sorts of feels like a confession. Madonna was right.<br/>
</em><br/>
He takes him into his mouth, feeling how Louis’ knees weaken instantly. Harry notices his hand taking a grip of his curls, guiding him to take more, to just go with it. His eyes are closed, but he hears how Louis struggles to stop himself from moaning. It’s an endearing, magnificent sound.<br/>
<br/>
“H-Harry. Let’s go hom- fuck,” he breathes, and the way his voice sounds gives him shivers down his spine. He just does what he thinks he would like, and apparently it’s working. He tries sucking even deeper, which makes him stumble a little.<br/>
He could’ve done this way before if only he wasn’t so insecure, because it’s not that complicated.<br/>
He likes to feel him like this, so helplessly aroused. So beautifully blushed.</p><p>Louis' fingers grip tight on his shoulder, Harry can almost feel his nails through his shirt.<br/>
Suddenly, he pulls off his mouth, lifts Harry up and kisses him desperately. “Let’s go home, please,” he mutters against his plump, red lips, almost like begging.<br/>
<br/>
Harry nods, mentally there already.<br/>
<br/>
He wants him so much it’s hurting.<br/>
<br/>
They run to the door holding hands, forgetting for a minute they weren’t alone in the first place. Basically scuttled to Mitch’s flat, the pavement feels like snakes biting on his shoes. He’s so distracted by the feeling he trips and falls, scratching his elbow. Louis’ laughter echoes thorugh every corner of his mind like a melody, as he helps him to shake off the dirt and dust from his trousers.<br/>
He stops to plant a small kiss on his lips. Harry feels every color of the rainbow running through his veins.<br/>
They keep running, sometimes bumping into people on their way.<br/>
His lungs burning from the sudden exercise.<br/>
<br/>
It's all laughs and smiles until Harry remembers Sarah has the keys.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re not serious.” Louis looks, effervescent, how Harry searches into every pocket of his clothes.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m such a loser.” He presses his lips. “I should’ve known they weren’t coming here early.”<br/>
<br/>
“What do we do then?”<br/>
<br/>
Louis’ glassy eyes are one of the most beautiful things he’s seen in his entire life.<br/>
They sit outside the door and wait, because that’s all they can do for now, as they text to Sarah so she’ll know where they are. He curls his face on his neck and smiles quietly, as they enjoy each other’s company.<br/>
He feels him bobbing his head in sleep, and this blissful feeling grows inside his chest.<br/>
<br/>
Louis is his cup of tea on a cold Monday morning, is the sound of the leaves moving because of the wind on a warm day in Spring. He’s his favorite blue jumper with the sunflowers in the middle.<br/>
<br/>
And he’s so scared of it.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
“Oi, what’s the meaning of this?” Sarah grins, hands on her waist. “I thought we were dancing together.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry opens his eyes and turns to look at her. “We got lost.”<br/>
<br/>
“Come on, up you both. The floor is too cold. Let’s get inside.”<br/>
<br/>
They’re wasted.<br/>
<br/>
“Are we sure we’re going to the parade tomorrow?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yup.” She nods, her eyes closed. “I swear I don’t remember much about this last five or six hours but tomorrow we do what we came to do.”<br/>
<br/>
“I definitely need some sleep, not because I’m sleepy but because I do feel the need to have dreams in this state.” Mitch’s face is buried in a pillow, so it’s hard to understand him.<br/>
<br/>
Louis is petting the cat again, this time just patting it on the back. “What time does it start?”<br/>
<br/>
“12 p.m, I think. Oh, we should have dinner at this super cool restaurant we went last time, what was its name, Mitch? Love?”<br/>
<br/>
“Love” is already asleep.<br/>
Which makes Louis giggles.<br/>
<br/>
Harry feels wetness on his elbow and pain stinging where he scratched before, so he looks and notices he got hurt. He’s bleeding a little bit from the scratch he got.<br/>
<br/>
“Do you know if Mitch’s got a plaster somewhere?”<br/>
<br/>
“Jesus, Harry.” Louis hisses when he sees him. “We need to clean you first.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’ll look for a first aid kit. There must be one, somewhere!”<br/>
<br/>
He feels Louis’ fingers cleaning his wound –which had some little pavement stones stuck on it—with water and some sterile gauze Sarah found in the bathroom. It still hurts a bit, but the way they’re so invested in the cleaning process makes him laugh. It feels empathetic, somehow.<br/>
His mind still feels blurred out but he’s slowly coming down from the high; his five senses still mixed up.<br/>
<br/>
When he gets to bed, completely tired and only wearing his shirt and his boxer briefs, he feels all the weight of every sensation he felt before, memories and thoughts flashing through his eyes like a movie projected in the ceiling.<br/>
And it comes in waves.<br/>
<br/>
Like the fact he’s in London, on his own.<br/>
Like the way holding Louis’ hand and being able to kiss him and see him and everything-with-him makes him feel something he’s probably never felt before, not in such intensity.<br/>
Like the tarot reading, for some reason.<br/>
He's not particularly skeptical, nor a stubborn blind believer, but the way every word the woman said –who didn’t know nothing about him, by the way—felt actually authentical. Like she seriously believed her own interpretation of it.<br/>
He could believe it too, but that would also mean his relationship with Louis won’t end well. To be fair he already suspected that, way before the reading, the moment he realized how much they have to do for people to not find out about them. He wants to be with him freely, and it’s an exhausting thought to wrap around. He had a little taste of how it would be, so he imagines how It could be eventually: just them walking and fooling around, maybe holding his hand from time to time, mocking anyone who dared to look at them the wrong way.<br/>
<br/>
He knows Louis would.<br/>
<br/>
And every time Harry questions himself if all the trouble’s worth it, Louis manages to do something to prove him right.<br/>
He says something funny, or he tells him an interesting story about this weird trip he had with his mum and sisters when he was seven. He prepares tea the way he likes it, he remembers something Harry’s talked about previously, he rants about this wanker from his team who keeps kicking him for no reason during rehearsals, which makes his accent go heavier.<br/>
He sighs watching the telly for no apparent reason, he lip-syncs commercial jingles, he remembers what song on <em>that Beatles album </em>he doesn’t like, so he skips it without hesitating.<br/>
Even though he really likes that one.<br/>
He kisses him with as much excitement as the first time, he knows where and how to put his arms around him before going to sleep.<br/>
The feeling doesn’t get old at all.<br/>
And it’s been almost two months of bittersweet joy.<br/>
But he’s not ready for it to end, even though he knows it will. They’re young.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe acknowledging now will make it easier afterwards.<br/>
<br/>
Louis interrupts his train-of-thoughts when he kisses his bare shoulder. Harry’s now sitting between his legs, his back leaning on his warm chest.<br/>
<br/>
“How’s your elbow?”<br/>
<br/>
“It doesn’t hurt that much, I promise.”<br/>
<br/>
“You sure?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah. You took care of it fairly good in my opinion.”<br/>
<br/>
“Did you know I know first aid?” He looks proud. “Yeah, and CPR.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry giggles. “That’s attractive, actually.”<br/>
<br/>
“Mum taught me when I was 12. I think it was because Lottie was practicing lots ‘round the house, so in case she got injured and mum wasn’t there, I could be her own personal paramedic for the day.”<br/>
<br/>
“Did she get injured?”<br/>
<br/>
“Nah, but I helped this boy who got into a fight at me old school. I like the rush of it.”<br/>
<br/>
“You could be a doctor.”<br/>
<br/>
“Mmm. I don’t know. To be fair, I don’t know what I want to do yet, but I don’t see myself as a doctor.”<br/>
<br/>
He starts massaging his shoulders, his body relaxing to every soft squeeze. “So you see yourself as a masseuse?”<br/>
<br/>
“No, but it’d be way easier if you take off your shirt.” He shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you flirting with me, Louis Tomlinson?”<br/>
<br/>
“Probably.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry has an idea.<br/>
He leaves the bed and looks inside his bag for the little blue bottle with the lilac oil he got earlier. He throws it to Louis’ hands as he takes off his own shirt.<br/>
<br/>
“Go on, then.”<br/>
<br/>
“What is this?”<br/>
<br/>
“Some natural oil. Apparently it helps you to sleep.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis opens it and sniffs, as Harry lays on his tummy, waiting. The white sheets smell like green apples and vanilla, which he feels quite intensely even when he’s not as high as a few hours ago.<br/>
Louis warms up his hands and puts some drops on Harry’s back, spreading it with his palms. It feels <em>amazing.</em> He takes his time on his neck and shoulder blades, moving and squeezing alternatively with his palms and thumbs.<br/>
<br/>
“You are quite tense. Is something bothering you, my dear?” Louis jokes; his hands going down near his waist.<br/>
<br/>
“M'fine. I could use your hands a little lower.” He breathes against the sheets.<br/>
<br/>
“Lower? Like this?”<br/>
<br/>
Naturally, he squeezes his bum in a cheeky way.<br/>
<br/>
Harry turns over, his back still feeling moist. He feels Louis’ eyes looking into his chest. “Take off your shirt.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, so we bossy now?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not bossy.”<br/>
<br/>
“You didn’t say please.” He frowns.<br/>
<br/>
“You want me to?”<br/>
<br/>
Louis swallows visibly, probably some thought going through his head. Harry later understands its innuendo.<br/>
He meant it, anyway.<br/>
<br/>
Louis takes his shirt off, shivering when he feels the cold air of the room. A shadow of a smile on his lips, slightly going away to the sudden intensity growing between them. He loves to be seen by him, to feel his eyes wandering around his pale skin.<br/>
<br/>
“What are you smirking about?”<br/>
<br/>
 Harry moves and sits on his knees in front of him mimicking his position.<br/>
<br/>
“Nothing.”<br/>
<br/>
Then he leans to press a soft kiss near his collarbone, as if was a prelude.</p><p>Louis just lets himself be absorbed by the pleasured feeling of having Harry’s soft, wet lips all around his neck.<br/>
The moment he decides to brush his teeth against his skin and to bite him, first playfully and then with the whole intention to arouse him again, Louis knows he’s lost.<br/>
<br/>
With his hands moving directly under Harry’s waistband, he takes a firm grip of his already hard cock. Louis feels his shaky breathing against his neck, Harry's face hiding there as he gently jerks him off. A muffled groan comes deep from his throat.<br/>
<br/>
Harry keeps kissing and licking his neck, barely, as he tries to keep himself from moaning too loud. Louis <em>knows </em>how to touch him. He knows because he’s been paying attention and he only manages to get better at it.<br/>
But this time he wants to finish what they’ve been playing around the entire day.<br/>
Harry takes his hand off his boxers and feels Louis’ immediate confused stare. Careful, he lays him on his back, and Louis just lets him.<br/>
<br/>
This time he’s the one who takes his own boxers off, completely.<br/>
He's naked.<br/>
So Harry takes his own underwear off as well.<br/>
<br/>
<em>This is new.</em><br/>
<br/>
He looks completely dreamy only to the lights from the window. The shape of his body as if he was Adonis just freshly sculpted by Corradini.<br/>
He would love to kiss every inch of it.<br/>
Louis sighs at the sight of Harry’s naked body and again, some thought goes into his mind. It makes him blush dearly.<br/>
<br/>
Harry leans and leaves a trail of kisses on his tummy, near his hip bone. He feels Louis’ excited gaze on him, on every kiss, every touch.<br/>
He decides to take his time until he takes him in again, this time not hesitating to his previous own inexperience. Louis’ trembling hand takes a fist of his curls, bit rough, until Harry decides to takes more and more inside his mouth. Everything feels beyond purely sexual. He’s pouring trust and love on it, trying to make him feel good. To get him off. To please him.<br/>
And it’s working perfectly.<br/>
<br/>
He hears him whispering his name, over and over, with some other words getting lost between his soft moans. His own cheeks burning, as he tries to jerk him and suck him at the same time, trying to find the right pace.<br/>
<br/>
“Harry, love. Wait -” He warns him, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. He tries going faster once he gets full coordination of his lips and hand. Louis’ panting breath and hard tug on his hair takes a small, deep groan out of him.<br/>
And that’s all it takes.<br/>
He swears breathily as he comes inside his mouth.<br/>
It feels warm and it’s not that bad. Harry swallows, intuitively. He plants a few more kisses on his hip bone before looking at him.<br/>
<br/>
Louis smiles, shaking his head and closing his eyes while trying to calm himself down. Harry cleans his lips with the back of his hand, a cheeky-proud smirk on his face as well.<br/>
Well, it's his first time doing it and apparently he’s not that bad at it, judging on how hard is for him to slow his breathing again.<br/>
Louis could own all of his first times, if he wants to.<br/>
<br/>
He sits to kiss him firmly on his lips, smiling and pressing little kisses in between. “I– I genuinely don’t believe you haven’t done this before.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry presses his lips. “I haven’t. I mean it.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis’ gaze seems lost still, but the way he starts moving his hand near on his thigh, all suggestive, makes him realize apparently he’s not over it yet. However, he’s too tired to do and feel anything else. It’s been only serotonin and psilocybin for almost 6 hours. He needs to rest. He takes his hand off, and Louis protests.<br/>
<br/>
“I wanna cuddle. M’tired.”<br/>
<br/>
“You sure?”<br/>
<br/>
He gives him a little kiss. “Yeah. Consider it a rain check.”<br/>
<br/>
“Alright, alright.” Louis smirks and sighs. “That was –“<br/>
<br/>
“What?”<br/>
<br/>
He puts a serious face on and inhales. “That was probably the best one I’ve ever had so far.”<br/>
<br/>
“Beginner’s luck?”<br/>
<br/>
“Nah. Don’t be so modest. You’re just good at it.”<br/>
<br/>
“Years of watching porn are becoming quite useful.” He looks confused. “Sorry. Joking. Bad joke.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis grins. “I can’t picture you watching porn, for some reason.”<br/>
<br/>
“Can’t you?”<br/>
<br/>
“I figure you were this kind of person who likes the backstory more than the sex, if you know what I mean?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yep. Some of them are quite interesting.”<br/>
<br/>
“So, you do watch it?”<br/>
<br/>
“Doesn’t everybody?”<br/>
<br/>
“Mmm.” He sighs, again. His cheeks still flushed. “I don’t know. I never really got the time to watch it or the courage to rent anything.”<br/>
<br/>
He’s getting cold, so he moves under the sheets; doesn’t feel like putting his clothes on again. Louis follows him and lies on the pillows, hugging Harry into his arms. He stays naked too, as if they have done this a thousand times.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s not that great, though. It’s often unrealistic.”<br/>
<br/>
“Of course, I mean, they’re movies. I read this article once about how they film it and it’s so bizarre. Imagine they shoot this particular scene and they fuck up. Not – literally, but… you know. So, how does he maintain his erection naturally? He can’t.” Louis bops Harry’s nose. “That’s why Viagra is such a big deal now. I think it’s scary.”<br/>
<br/>
“Viagra?”<br/>
<br/>
“M-hm. Yep. Viagra.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry chuckles, enjoying the warmth of Louis’ body so close, so comforting next to his. He raises an eyebrow as a response.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s just…” He sighs. “You’re, without a doubt, the most interesting person on this planet. I thought people like you only existed in movies, or cheesy songs from the 50’s, but you’re right here. Talking to me about and how you don’t really like porn, but you read this whole article about it. You make everything sound interesting. You could read me the entire bible and I wouldn’t fall asleep.”<br/>
<br/>
“I tried reading it but I never really understand <em>how</em> to read it.”<br/>
<br/>
“Is it ok for us to talk about porn and the bible in a span of a minute?”<br/>
<br/>
Louis titters. “Don’t think so. Especially us. We’re definitely not the right people to mention the bible.”<br/>
<br/>
“Nope. We’re not.”<br/>
<br/>
And they stare into each other’s eyes for what feels like an eternity, because now it’s only them and it’s a timeless moment. They hear sirens and people on the street outside, and nothing else. Harry looks at every detail of Louis’ face: the three freckles on his cheek which forms a triangle, his curvy eyebrows, his slightly upturned, diamond shaped nose, his cheekbones, his thin, soft lips, the only dimple on his right cheek, his long eyelashes. He stops on his eyes, as usual, which are now a deep dark blue. His pupils almost back to normal.<br/>
He could just drown in them.<br/>
<br/>
“Harry?”<br/>
<br/>
“Mh?”<br/>
<br/>
“Thank you.” He whispers.<br/>
<br/>
“Why?”<br/>
<br/>
A kiss on his forehead is the answer, somehow. He turns around and Louis cuddles him, and they get to their usual position to sleep.<br/>
Harry’s the little spoon.<br/>
That goes unsaid.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
° ° °<br/>
<br/>
The phone ringing from his trousers’ pocket wakes him from a weird, vivid dream.<br/>
Sleepy, he crawls out of bed, out of Louis’ arms, to pick it up.<br/>
He holds it on his shoulder as he puts his pajama bottoms on.<br/>
<br/>
“Hello?”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Hi. I’m sorry. Hey. How are you?”<br/>
<br/>
</em>His heart skips a beat instantly, not because he’s excited or anything.<br/>
It's because his dad hasn’t called for almost two years.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. "Rebel Rebel / She Bangs the Drums"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>"i knew you,</i>
  <br/>
  <i>hand under my sweatshirt,</i>
  <br/>
  <i>baby kiss it better"</i>
</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Heyyyy. After three long weeks I'm finally back with another chapter.<br/>This will be a long one (15.5k words), and it'll be quite intense. Some smut (it's tagged but this is a heads-up nonetheless) and triggering topics, such as homophobia and mentions of a homophobic attack back in 1999. I decided to include this bit, especially since I think it's important to bring awareness to it and to contextualize better about the ambient they're in.<br/>The pictures are real too, and I thought it'd be nice to share them with you because they inspired me a lot.<br/>I worked and investigated a lot to make it kinda accurate and most of all, to make it as respectful as posible regarding the attack. </p><p>Thank you all so much for your patience! I hope you like this one as much as I do. &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>I should’ve taken the jumper.</em><br/>
<br/>
The cold floor freezes Louis’ feet. He wants to get back to bed, sleep some more, because it’s almost 9 am. It’s too early for his weary eyes.<br/>
He walks to the kitchen and there’s a whole mess he didn’t notice yesterday before going to sleep: cups, rests of gauze, an open cereal box, blankets, pillows, some clothes (looks like Harry and Sarah’s shirts), cat food in a pot, milk in a glass and rests of brown sugar next to it.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Did we all collectively consume something else and we didn’t notice? The fuck is this?</em><br/>
<br/>
To kill some time he starts cleaning up, trying not to pay attention to Harry’s conversation from their room. <em>He sounds sad, mad even</em>. Harry never gets really angry. Whenever he does, even for a tiny bit, he tries to shake the feeling off quickly. Louis can’t, he sucks at pretending.<br/>
He wants to turn the TV on so the sound can appease Harry’s voice, but Mitch and Sarah are still sleeping and he doesn’t want to bother.<br/>
Luckily for him, Sarah wakes up ten minutes later.<br/>
<br/>
“Why are you up so early?”<br/>
<br/>
“Eh – I dunno. Wasn’t that tired. You?”<br/>
<br/>
“Mitch almost pushed me off the bed. He talked all night. Bet it was the mushrooms.” She frowns, grabbing one of the recently-folded blankets and covering herself with it; turns as she hears Harry’s irritated voice. “Is that Harry?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah.”<br/>
<br/>
“He sounds upset.”<br/>
<br/>
“His dad called.”<br/>
<br/>
“Des? No fucking way.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know.” Louis presses his lips. “I don’t understand either.”<br/>
<br/>
“Poor H. You know he’s a bit sensitive about –“<br/>
<br/>
“Des? Oh, yeah, I am aware. I remember when I asked him about some story he told me when they went to Lancaster Park and he almost started crying because they went together or something.”<br/>
<br/>
“The story with the little goats? Mate, when he told me, we had zero idea what to do. We were laughing about Mitch’s dad being addicted to caffeine and then he just jumped out of nowhere with that story. We felt so bad. I like Robin, though. He seems like a decent human being.”<br/>
<br/>
“He is, yeah. Like, naturally nice.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know! One time he dropped Harry at our place and he bought us food. It was amazing. Also he’s very supportive. Of Harry, I mean. Every time we compose something he’s usually the first one to give us an opinion.”<br/>
<br/>
“I didn’t know about that.” Louis tilts his head.<br/>
<br/>
“Have you talked to him?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’ve seen him a few times when I visit Harry. He always invites us to his house.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m jealous. He has a Playstation and Harry always brags about it.”<br/>
<br/>
“Bet he does.” He finishes washing the last cup. They stay quiet for a minute; Harry’s voice still sounding mad. “I wish I could save him from that conversation, you know, with Des. I guess it’s necessary after all.”<br/>
<br/>
“Definitely. I wish I could be his spokesperson and just kindly tell him to fuck off.”<br/>
<br/>
They giggle, and it feels like a mutual understanding. After all, they’ve been there for Harry. They both care and love him on their unique own way.<br/>
<em>Love?<br/>
Maybe.<br/>
Nah, it’s too soon yet.<br/>
<br/>
</em>She turns on the radio and Louis recognizes The Selecter’s “On My Radio”, almost immediately. He had a phase in which he only listened to ska, specially two-tone, and nothing else. He blames Joe Strummer for it, but he doesn’t complain. Ska has this magic thing that keeps you far from feeling blue and it doesn’t feel forced. Totally useful when you’re 16, moody and alone.<br/>
<br/>
“Want a cuppa?”<br/>
<br/>
“That’d be lovely, thanks.”<br/>
<br/>
He puts some water to boil and prepares some tea since it looks like he’s not going back to bed anytime soon. Mentally thanks Mitch for having a proper tea brand available on his kitchen shelf.<br/>
<br/>
When Sarah leaves again, maybe to wake Mitch up, Louis starts bouncing his feet and dancing around the kitchen, to “Friday Night, Saturday Morning” by The Specials. He feels genuinely happy and the <em>why</em> is obviously no mystery.<br/>
<br/>
Everything is perfectly lined up:<br/>
<br/>
- He’s not at home.<br/>
- He didn’t wake up to shouts or a pissed, twat-called-father today.<br/>
- He slept with Harry.<br/>
- He saw Harry naked.<br/>
- Pride !!!!<br/>
- He’s not going home ‘til Monday or Tuesday.<br/>
- He loves this song.<br/>
- Yorkshire Tea.<br/>
- Loads of Yorkshire Tea.<br/>
<br/>
And shit, he needs to buy condoms if he’s thinking about doing <em>anything</em> yet.<br/>
And lube.<br/>
How on earth he’s going to buy lube without blushing to death?<br/>
<em>Fuck.<br/>
</em>And of course Harry’s not going to buy it for him. You can just literally look at him and he’ll blush and start stuttering.<br/>
It's not that much of a big deal, right? It’s not like straight couples don’t use lube too.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Couple, as in boyfriend.<br/>
Boyfriend.<br/>
Fuck.<br/>
Is he?<br/>
Eleanor doesn’t count, she never has.<br/>
So calling him “boyfriend” it’s not too far-fetched.<br/>
Oh.<br/>
Boyfriend.<br/>
Is he, really?<br/>
Boyfriend Harry.<br/>
He's my- </em><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Lou? Are you alright?” Sarah comes back, still covered in her blanket.<br/>
<br/>
He quickly shakes his head. “Yeah, I was thinking about some stuff I need to buy.”<br/>
<br/>
“What do you need? I can tell you where to go.”<br/>
<br/>
Improvisation is better than nothing. “M-hm.” <em>When you can pull it off without looking berk. </em>“I mean – I need to buy… eh –“ He glances to the vase next to the door. “Flowers.”<br/>
<br/>
“Flowers, huh?”<br/>
<br/>
“Flowers, yeah.”<br/>
<br/>
“Harry is really living his Pretty Woman fantasy, I guess.” Sarah smirks. “There’s a flower shop at Great Marlborough. It’s called Wild at Heart. Funny, innit? Rumor has it Nicholas Cage is the florist.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis giggles. “What?”  <br/>
<br/>
“Shit, you haven’t seen that one.” She blushes. “Totally pointless, sorry.”<br/>
<br/>
“What do you mean?”<br/>
<br/>
“Nothing, just – I’m used to dumb movie jokes with Harry.”<br/>
<br/>
He shakes his head, smiling. “You both are dorks, hope you know that.”<br/>
<br/>
“I do, yeah. Harry probably knows too. We’re all dorks here, catch up.”<br/>
<br/>
“I am a dork sometimes, I’m just better at hiding it.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well, Harry must like you for a reason.” She shrugs and grins. “When are you going out, by the way? Remember we’re supposed to leave by 12.”<br/>
<br/>
“Mmm, now, probably.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis hasn’t finished his tea and he wants to take a shower first, but Harry’s still in their room, still talking.<br/>
<br/>
Are condoms <em>that</em> necessary today?<br/>
<br/>
Unintentionally, he remembered last night.<br/>
And Harry’s hands,<br/>
 mouth,<br/>
  shoulders,<br/>
    neck,<br/>
      back,<br/>
        tummy,<br/>
          thighs, -<br/>
<br/>
<em>Alright, yeah. Definitely a necessity.<br/>
<br/>
</em>He pours water on two cups and impatiently waits for it to cool. As he stirs the spoon, he hears this story Sarah tells him about how she first thought Harry was too shy to have stage presence, and how pleasantly surprised she was at Berlin.<br/>
Honestly, Harry looked like a fucking 70’s rockstar. Louis doesn’t think he’s comparable to any other singer. He’s unique.<br/>
And he doesn’t think about it only because he’s got a massive crush on the boy, but because he believes in his talent.<br/>
Harry might be a bit shy, but he’s definitely a handsome, talented musician.<br/>
<br/>
He could talk about Harry all day.<br/>
But it’s 10:11 already.<br/>
<br/>
He gulps his tea and stands outside the room’s door. Harry doesn’t sound angry anymore. He’s quiet.<br/>
So Louis comes in, and oh.<br/>
Harry’s curled up in bed. Fetal-position and all.<br/>
The phone still on his ear.<br/>
<br/>
He doesn’t want to interrupt, so he takes some clothes from his backpack, eyes clustered on Harry’s back.<br/>
<br/>
“You should’ve told me.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry’s voice breaking a little.<br/>
Louis stops to consider maybe go to bed and cuddle him, maybe to plant some kisses on the back of his head. Maybe a way to let him know he’s not alone.<br/>
But he knows Harry.<br/>
He’ll need all of it, but not right now. Right now he needs to be alone.<br/>
<br/>
So he leaves to the bathroom and takes a quick shower.<br/>
<br/>
Two love bites decorating his collarbone and hip bone, and a feeling of tenderness through his chest.<br/>
He touches them with his fingertips, with the thought of last night’s experience stuck on his mind. Louis can’t believe he’s lucky enough to do all those things with Harry, that someone like him is actually interested in him. Him. A boy with a messy life, regular grades and a decent taste in music. Nothing particularly remarkable.<br/>
<br/>
He dresses up –not drying his hair, there’s no time for it, but he tries to give it some shape—brushes his teeth and feels way better. His shirt covers his collarbone perfectly, so he won’t have to worry about it.<br/>
Mitch and Sarah are smoking half a blunt left from yesterday. It’s amazing how they just constantly live high, so careless and happy. He’s noticed how their relationship is more a friendship rather than anything else, and it’s a nice thing to look up to.<br/>
It's not like he’s got too many good examples.<br/>
<br/>
“Alright, I’m heading out. Do you need anything?”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t think so, no. Maybe you could buy some fruits for the afternoon.”<br/>
<br/>
“And water, please. We’ll probably walk a lot.” Mitch side-looks leaning on Sarah’s shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
Louis enjoys the cold air refreshing his face, the sky is clear and the sun hits him just right.<br/>
People in Soho already going out with some rainbow flags and flamboyant makeup, which reminds him he needs to buy a flag for Harry.<br/>
He wishes he’d brought his Walkman to listen to some music, but Lottie asked him to lend it since she’s been practicing her routine all week.<br/>
And even he loves being out, he misses his sisters most of the time. He’s not the only one having a hard time, he knows it. The girls carry an awful load of their own problems, always in silence.<br/>
It's affecting each of them in their own way: Lottie barely sleeps, Fizzy sleeps and eats a lot and Louis can’t sleep in his own room.<br/>
<br/>
It's what usually happens when your dad suddenly decides to become a possible alcoholic with no heads-up.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe alcoholic is too much of a strong word for his situation, but it’s not like there’s a mild term for it. He’s drinking almost every day since he got fired from work, and it’s been like almost three months.<br/>
Louis doesn’t feel a bit sad for him.<br/>
But if there’s a lost source of income, from a person that’s willingly not looking for another job, he knows he’ll have to take care of the situation.<br/>
Look for a proper job.<br/>
<br/>
He's had a few interviews with no actual success to it.<br/>
So he’s been doing people’s English essays and homework at school. It’s not too much, but at least he can maintain himself without asking mum for money.<br/>
<br/>
That’s why Harry’s been, in a way, his lighthouse; guiding him through this shitty moment in his life. Giving him joy and comfiness he hasn’t felt with anyone before, at least, not in such an intensity.<br/>
He’s hoping it’s mutual.<br/>
And not temporary.<br/>
<br/>
Once Louis’s standing outside the chemist’s, he feels shy.<br/>
So he waits until there’s no one inside.<br/>
When he decides to get in, a bloke cuts him and enters first.<br/>
And it’s been 17 minutes.<br/>
<br/>
<em>For fuck’s sake.<br/>
</em><br/>
A blond woman called Mary smiles friendly. “May I help you, dear?”<br/>
<br/>
“Eh – yeah. I need to buy…” <em>It’s not complicated, come on.</em> “Clarityn.”<br/>
<em><br/>
</em>In his defense, she’s actually quite intimidating.<br/>
And Harry might need some loratadine eventually.<br/>
<br/>
“Anything else?”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Just do it, she doesn’t even know you.<br/>
<br/>
</em>“And condoms.”<br/>
<br/>
The way she subtly raises an eyebrow and smirks upsets him deeply.<br/>
At least he’s taking care of himself, there’s nothing to be ashamed of-<br/>
<br/>
“Which ones?”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Bloody hell.<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Oh…  Eh-“<br/>
<br/>
“We have the regular ones, studded, flavored…”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Studded?<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Just the regular ones.”<br/>
<br/>
“Which brand?”<br/>
<br/>
“Any brand, I – just, any brand.”<br/>
<br/>
His face probably looks like a tomato.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Shit, the lube.</em><br/>
<br/>
“And –“<br/>
<br/>
“And?”<br/>
<br/>
“Lube, please.”<br/>
<br/>
She smirks again and Louis wants to dig his head in a hole.<br/>
<br/>
“We have different brands and types as well, oil-based, water-based, flavored. I’d recommend the water-based one since it’s been broadly recommended by –“<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, sure.” He frowns. “Flavored, you said?”<br/>
<br/>
“M-hm.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Mmmmmmmmmm<br/>
<br/>
</em>He whispers. “What are the - flavors?”<br/>
<br/>
“We have chocolate, peach, strawberry, cherry –“<br/>
<br/>
“Strawberry, I guess.”<br/>
<br/>
Once she turns to look for his purchase, Louis notices his hands are terribly sweaty. Fuck it. He’s here, she doesn’t know him and it’s not a big deal. Also, <em>strawberry? </em>He’s not complaining.<br/>
Like at all.<br/>
<br/>
He walks out of the chemist’s with his head up, more confident than ever. It feels exactly like when he <em>finally </em>completed Final Fantasy VII, with the difference he didn’t spend 3 weeks working on it.<br/>
And that we’re talking about condoms.<br/>
 <br/>
Besides buying some fruits and bottled water, he actually decides to pick flowers for Harry. A bouquet of daffodils. Part as a joke, part as Pride gift. This is his first proper Pride parade, and the fact Harry will be there with him makes him feel somehow safe. He probably wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t for his excited eyes almost begging him to go.<br/>
It was a pretty good excuse to leave his house too.<br/>
Even for a bit.<br/>
<br/>
When he’s back after an hour or so, Mitch and Sarah are nowhere to be seen. He takes off his shoes, leaves the paper bags on the dinner table and walks to his room.<br/>
And they both are standing outside his door.<br/>
<br/>
“Wha-“<br/>
<br/>
“Shush.” Sarah puts her index on his lips.<br/>
<br/>
“They’re still talking?” Louis whispers.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah. We got worried because I swear I’ve never heard him this angry. I think he told him something about his mum.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Oh.<br/>
<br/>
</em>Silence.<br/>
Literal silence from inside the room.<br/>
Louis is nervous.<br/>
(Apparently, also Mitch and Sarah.)<br/>
<br/>
Harry opens the door, cheeks red and a frown.<br/>
The green from his eyes now dark, as leaves from an olive tree.<br/>
<br/>
He sighs.<br/>
<br/>
“I didn’t know we had a meeting.”<br/>
<br/>
“We didn’t.” Sarah looks confused.<br/>
<br/>
“We were actually going to ask you if you wanted to have breakfast with us.” And Mitch saves the situation.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh. Sure. I need to take a quick shower first.” Harry looks a bit lost.<br/>
<br/>
“Perfect. We – Mitch and I, we’re making breakfast.”<br/>
<br/>
“Sick.” He nods.<br/>
<br/>
Louis carefully studies his reaction.<br/>
<br/>
“Do you fancy something specific?”<br/>
<br/>
“Some eggs benedict would be nice.”<br/>
<br/>
“Brilliant.” She nods too, clearly concerned, but also she knows Harry will open up to Louis about it. That’s his unstated, implied job right now. Sarah and Mitch cook, Louis comforts him.<br/>
<br/>
And the thing is, Harry doesn’t walk straight into the bathroom when they leave.<br/>
He waits there for a hug, like a puppy.<br/>
Of course, Louis goes straight to his arms.<br/>
<br/>
They walk, without breaking the hug, and Louis shuts the door with his foot. Harry semi-hides on his neck.<br/>
<br/>
“Wanna talk about it?”<br/>
<br/>
“Maybe. Do you think it’s better if I speak now? So I can have fun later without overthinking about it?”<br/>
<br/>
“I think you need to talk about it whenever you feel you need to. Now, tomorrow, next year. I’ll be here regardless.”<br/>
<br/>
“I do wanna talk about it, but I don’t know where to start.”<br/>
<br/>
“Just – whatever that comes into your mind. Don’t think it, just say it.”<br/>
<br/>
“Dad said he didn’t call because he didn’t know how to tell me he cheated on mum.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh. That’s –“<br/>
<br/>
“And that he’s forming another family.”<br/>
<br/>
A beat.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know.” Harry whispers, his head leaning on Louis’ shoulder. He runs his fingers through Harry’s back.<br/>
<br/>
“How do you feel about it?”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t really feel anything specific. I guess I’m mad he thought I wasn’t going to take it well, so he used it as an excuse to not talk to me or Gemma. It’s stupid, but also I’m happy that he’s happy. Does it make sense?”<br/>
<br/>
“It does, yeah.”<br/>
<br/>
“He knows I’m here, in London. He’s here too.”<br/>
<br/>
“Do you want to see him?”<br/>
<br/>
“He wants to have dinner tomorrow.”<br/>
<br/>
“And what are you gonna do?”<br/>
<br/>
“Well, I told him about you.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis’ knees weaken for a second.<br/>
<br/>
“Me?”<br/>
<br/>
“M-hm.”<br/>
<br/>
“What did you tell him?”<br/>
<br/>
“That I’m here with a very-close-friend.” He emphasizes on the last three words, mocking him. “And that we’re busy today, that we have plans, so he offered us to have brunch with him tomorrow.”<br/>
<br/>
“Us?”<br/>
<br/>
“You can go with me, if you want to.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis’ hands stop moving. Insecurity suddenly growing in his chest. But why? He’s met Harry’s family before; he’s had dinner with them, chat with them, and it’s not weird. Hell, he even calls them on first name basis.<br/>
Maybe he’s not a formal dinner type.<br/>
Or a dad type.<br/>
<br/>
“Lou?”<br/>
<br/>
“Sorry, I was –“<br/>
<br/>
“You don’t have to go if you don’t feel like it.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, I do. I do wanna go.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry breaks the hug and looks at him. “I mean, I don’t know if I even want to. I don’t know if I’m ready to see him again after he decided to pretend we didn’t exist for a while, but it might be easier if you’re there with me.”<br/>
<br/>
And those words are enough to dissipate any alarming feeling or thought stuck in his head.<br/>
<br/>
“Then we’ll go there, we’ll try to play it cool, I’ll hold your hand under the table if things get weird.” Louis bops his nose. “We can order something expensive if you want.”<br/>
<br/>
His chuckle gives him butterflies. “Yeah, sounds like a good idea.”<br/>
<br/>
“How’s your elbow?”<br/>
<br/>
“It stings a little, and I think I have a bruise on one of my knees.”<br/>
<br/>
“Can I see?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry squints and smiles. “You’re being cheeky. I need to take a shower.”<br/>
<br/>
“I can… join you, if you want. Hold your hand if the water’s too cold.”<br/>
<br/>
He shakes his head, same expression. “I need you to fix the room. I don’t want us to be the messy couple in this household and our bed’s a mess.”<br/>
<br/>
“We’ve been here for, like, two days and suddenly you speak so posh now.”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t,” he frowns. “I’m just asking you to make the bed.”<br/>
<br/>
“And I’m terrible at it. Also, if I remember well, I made it yesterday.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s not – alright. I’ll make the bed, but you still can’t join me in the shower. You’ll make it tomorrow, though.” <br/>
<br/>
“The bed or the shower?” <br/>
<br/>
Harry leans and whispers to his ear. “Both, if you also make me a cuppa.”<br/>
<br/>
“Fair enough.”<br/>
<br/>
And Harry grabs his towel and walks out.<br/>
<br/>
And Louis doesn’t know when he got so married, so young.<br/>
When he got so head-over-heels for Harry.<br/>
No one could blame him for it, actually, if they’d see what he sees.<br/>
<br/>
Harry’s the kind of person whose details, even when human, never get to the point where they’re annoying. He’s an obsessive nerd, but he’s also beautiful, charming, kind and pure; shyness aside, he easily could have the world at his feet.<br/>
<br/>
And he doesn’t realize it, which makes it even more unbelievable.<br/>
<br/>
Which is also scary.<br/>
<br/>
Louis learns every day a little more from him, and every day Harry manages to wonder him: he likes his bed made before going to sleep or the wrinkles in the sheets will make him move a lot at night, he has a freckle on his thigh, he likes to collect old stuff, fantasizing with the day he’ll have his own house so he’ll have a small “museum” to show off to his future guests, he talks when he’s sleeping, he’s a cat person, he likes to dance while cooking because he gets impatient, he counts beats tapping his right foot, he moves his lips slightly to the left when he sings, he sighs out of nowhere, especially when he watches tv.<br/>
<br/>
He has his own flaws as well, but it’s nothing too bad to not be easily covered with another charming action: he tends to get competitive, even while playing Scrabble; when Louis makes the bed, Harry quietly fixes it again. It’s annoying sometimes, but also it’s funny how he tries to keep Louis from noticing. It’s hard to tell at first when he’s being sarcastic, he struggles finishing sentences and he likes to pick chips from Louis’ plate. Even when he has some on his own.<br/>
<br/>
But Louis doesn’t mind.<br/>
<br/>
He never does.<br/>
<br/>
Because it’s Harry.<br/>
<br/>
It's always Harry.<br/>
<br/>
He's been standing up alone in his room for like 7 minutes.<br/>
<br/>
Louis quicks his pace to the kitchen to find Sarah and Mitch making breakfast.<br/>
His bags are nowhere to be seen.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Shit.<br/>
<br/>
</em>“How’s our boy?” Sarah stirs the wooden spoon in the pan.<br/>
<br/>
“He’s alright. We are having dinner with Des tomorrow.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh?” Mitch puts some cups on the table.<br/>
<br/>
“We? As in you and Harry?”<br/>
<br/>
Louis nods. “But he’s fine with it.”<br/>
<br/>
“No, no. I know. It’s just –“<br/>
<br/>
“What?”<br/>
<br/>
Sarah smirks. “Nothing.”<br/>
<br/>
And Louis sighs. “What?”<br/>
<br/>
She side-looks at Mitch and it’s like they communicate, telepathically. “You know about Des, you said it yourself, right?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah?”<br/>
<br/>
“You know it’s a big deal for him.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know.”<br/>
<br/>
Mitch interrupts. “What Sarah means is that he’s probably going to come out to his dad and you’ll be there.”<br/>
<br/>
“You think so?”<br/>
<br/>
“Probably,” Sarah shrugs. “But don’t worry too much about it. From what we heard he’s not a bad guy, he’s just doesn’t really act like a dad.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis nods again, watching how carefully she puts the eggs benedict on their plates.<br/>
Somehow, he doesn’t feel nervous.<br/>
He feels rather good, actually. He wants to be there for Harry, the way Harry most certainly won’t be able to be there when Louis’ dad finds out. Safety reasons.<br/>
And it could happen in a year, if not ten.<br/>
He hopes his own dad doesn’t find out until he can leave his house.<br/>
<br/>
The bouquet is in the sofa, next to his bags. He leaves the bag with the fruits at the kitchen and goes back to his room, to put the condoms and the lube inside his backpack. He lies the bouquet, carefully on Harry’s side of the bed.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Maybe I could write him a note.<br/>
<br/>
</em>He looks for his little notebook inside his backpack, takes out a blank page in half and writes. But what can he write?<br/>
<br/>
Well, a David Bowie’ song is the first thing that comes to his mind.<br/>
<br/>
<em>“You’ve got your mother in a whirl<br/>
she’s not sure if you’re a boy or a girl<br/>
<br/>
Hey babe, your hair’s alright<br/>
Hey babe, let’s go out tonight<br/>
<br/>
You like me and I like it all,<br/>
We like dancing and we look divine<br/>
<br/>
3/7/1999. Happy Pride! L x” </em><br/>
<br/>
This is probably the gayest gift ever.<br/>
He wants to kiss his own brain. It’s perfect.<br/>
And Harry loves Bowie, so.<br/>
<br/>
He shuts the door and goes back to Mitch and Sarah. They’re sitting in front of the radio.<br/>
<br/>
“Is that Madonna?”<br/>
<br/>
“I know,” Sarah looks shocked. “This girl has more versatility in almost 20 years of career than any other artist. I just love her.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis sits next to them. “I like this one. Do you know the name?”<br/>
<br/>
“Ray of Light.” She pets the cat, who’s playing with a fake mouse near them. “It’s like they know this is a gay day, this song is so gay. They’re doing this in purpose.”<br/>
<br/>
So Limp Bizkit’s Nookie starts playing.<br/>
<br/>
“What about Limp Bizkit?”<br/>
<br/>
“Still gay for me.”<br/>
<br/>
Mitch chuckles. “Fred Durst looks a bit gay, though.”<br/>
<br/>
“He’s at least bisexual.” Louis smiles. <em>Is speculating about some artist’s sexuality is a fun thing to do? Probably. Is it weird? Maybe. At least, talking so openly about it.<br/>
</em><br/>
“Did you know Leonardo Dicaprio’s gay?”<br/>
<br/>
“Nah, he’s not.”<br/>
<br/>
“My gay-dar never fails, dear Louis. He must be gay.”<br/>
<br/>
“But every girl is crazy about him.”<br/>
<br/>
“My point exactly. He’s as closeted as dearest Mercury in the 80’s.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s some serious allegation.” Mitch teases, smirking.<br/>
<br/>
“That doesn’t change the fact he is a bit - you know.” She moves her hand down, emphasizing on her wrist.<br/>
<br/>
“I mean, I wouldn’t complain.” Louis laughs it off.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
Harry’s finally ready after 23 minutes.<br/>
His hair still wet, but he devours his eggs benedict. He barely talks. He gulps his tea.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you alright, love?”<br/>
<br/>
“Mmh-“ He almost chokes. Even Sarah looks confused. “I was starving, sorry. Didn’t realize I haven’t eaten a single thing since yesterday. Also we’re late.”<br/>
<br/>
“We’re not that late, H. And I did those with so much love.” She pouts. “Did you enjoy them at least?”<br/>
<br/>
“They were wonderful, thank you.” He gives her a big smile, dimples and everything. Harry looks excited –<em>like a puppy? Again?—</em>, hyperventilated even. “Lou? Are you done?”<br/>
<br/>
He’s barely in the middle of his plate. “Yeah.”<br/>
<br/>
“Can you come with me, please?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry doesn’t even wait for an answer. He walks straight –<em>ha, straight</em>—to the room.<br/>
<br/>
And Louis follows. Louis always follows.<br/>
<br/>
He's so hyperventilated he’s breathing with his mouth open. Eyes glassy.<br/>
<br/>
“Shut the door.” Harry points with his head.<br/>
<br/>
“What’s wrong?”<br/>
<br/>
He looks for something in his bag and puts his hands right behind his back. “First, I wanted to thank you for the flowers. They were lovely. Love Bowie. Love the song. Love – the lyrics, so much. I got the reference, by the way.”<br/>
<br/>
“Gay as a –“<br/>
<br/>
“Daffodil, yes. Mercury was right after all.” He smiles, dimples again. “I also got you something.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Oh?<br/>
<br/>
</em>“When?”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s dumber than yours, actually.” He looks down.<br/>
<br/>
“What is it?”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s something I thought could be also a nice joke and –“<br/>
<br/>
“What is it, Harry?”<br/>
<br/>
He takes a little bubble bottle, smiling widely. “It’s a little-bubble-bottle.” And the way he says it, so fast, make Louis laugh. Harry hands it over, and Louis shakes it a little bit. Tries to think about the joke. “Come on, I know you can figure it out.”<br/>
<br/>
“Eh – I mean, bubbles are gay enough.” He blows them to Harry’s frowning face.<br/>
<br/>
“Louis.”<br/>
<br/>
“What?”<br/>
<br/>
“What are you doing right now?”<br/>
<br/>
“Blowing bubbles?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry nods, enthusiastic. “Exactly.”<br/>
<br/>
“So?”<br/>
<br/>
He rolls his eyes. “Forget it.”<br/>
<br/>
“Losing your patience already?”<br/>
<br/>
“It was a dumb joke, anyway.”<br/>
<br/>
“Harry, I love this, I love it. Oh, we should take this to the parade.” Harry nods, still a bit reluctant. Louis tilts his head. “Speak.”<br/>
<br/>
“I seriously wanted you to understand the joke.”<br/>
<br/>
“Explain, maybe?”<br/>
<br/>
“Nah, it’ll kill it. Figure it out by yourself.”<br/>
<br/>
“Come on, I wanna know.”<br/>
<br/>
“Mh-m. Nope. You’ll know, eventually.”<br/>
<br/>
“Eventually? Harry, come on.” Louis frowns as he tries, with a cheeky stare, to convince him.<br/>
“Haaarry,” he starts poking his waist, tickling, and Harry still refuses to enlighten him. He shakes his head, pressing his lips, until he manages to make him giggle. The pokes turn into plain tickles. Harry runs to the bed, laughing, and Louis keeps trying to tickle him. He tries to hold his hands, to keep him out of his tummy, but Louis knows exactly where to tickle.<br/>
<br/>
“Stop it or I’ll push you off the bed!” Harry begs, between laughs, but Louis doesn’t stop. He loves his melodic laugh, sometimes high-pitched when he touches his armpits and waist. Harry keeps his word and tries to push him, but he grips on his shirt.<br/>
And they both fall.<br/>
Louis hits his head and Harry falls on his elbow. It hurts like hell, but it doesn’t matter. They keep laughing until Harry interrupts him with a soft kiss on his lips.<br/>
<br/>
And Louis feels nothing but butterflies fluttering through his body.<br/>
<br/>
He notices every time Harry kisses him without thinking, later he cups his face into his big, soft hands. Maybe like a way of reassurance. He feels safe, warm. Protected from the rest of the world.<br/>
He could live between Harry’s hands, he wouldn’t mind.<br/>
He could do this every day, it feels like it’s meant to be.<br/>
Like Harry’s hands were made specifically to hold his face, like his velvety lips were made to kiss his lips, and only his. Like his mind was made for him to wander around it, like every detail is there, waiting to be noticed, memorized, praised as if every detail was just as interesting as the next one.<br/>
Just like the way Harry likes to sneak his hands right down his neck when he wants to pull him a bit closer.<br/>
<br/>
He breaks the kiss for a minute to look at him, his cheeks flushed, his beautiful emerald eyes.<br/>
<br/>
And shit, he might be actually falling for the boy.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Oh, no.</em><br/>
<br/>
“Now that we’re done with this conversation, shall we go now?”<br/>
<br/>
His hair, still humid, falls perfectly on his forehead. A crown of bronze curls around his head. He looks like a painting, like a movie character, like…<br/>
<br/>
“Claire!”<br/>
<br/>
He giggles. “What?”<br/>
<br/>
“Claire Danes, in Romeo and Juliet. You look exactly like her. Same smile and such.”<br/>
<br/>
“Claire Danes?” Harry raises his eyebrows.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah.” Louis movies a curl out of his face with his left hand.<br/>
<br/>
“Mmh, interesting. Now that I look at you, you kinda look like Dicaprio.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis frowns and quickly shakes his head, in total disbelief. “Funny.”<br/>
<br/>
“I mean it.”<br/>
<br/>
“No, no. Please don’t. Don’t insult Leo like that.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not insulting him, don’t be silly. I think you two really look alike. Like, curved eyebrows, overlapping eyelids, small, beautiful nose, cute lips…”<br/>
<br/>
“I think you might have a crush on Leo, only by that description.” Louis tries to laugh it off.<br/>
<br/>
“I think I might have a crush on Leo. In fact, I think Leo is the most handsome man in the planet.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis kisses the tip of his nose. “Stop it.”<br/>
<br/>
“Ok, let’s go Romeo.”<br/>
<br/>
He gets up off the floor and offers Harry his hand. “Let’s go, Juliet.”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
The thought of actually might falling in love with Harry never leaves his head, at least, not for the day.<br/>
<br/>
They take the Tube to Hyde Park, where the parade is supposed to start, by noon.<br/>
Only that’s fucking 12:39 pm and they’re probably super late.<br/>
It was Harry’s fault.<br/>
He lost one of his shoes last night and he couldn’t find them anywhere, until Mitch found it inside a flowerpot. How? No idea. One of the biggest unsolved mysteries out there, again, thanks to shrooms.</p><p>He noticed the number of intense stares inside the wagon, between possible assistants and people continuing their day, just like another normal evening for them. There’s this guy wearing a neon wig, a quite flamboyant dress and fanning his face in a very elegant way. He’s loud, in presence and sound. An older lady looks at him, almost disgusted.<br/>
<br/>
Louis hears Sarah talking, but he’s not really listening. He’s too immersed in this quiet, implicit confrontation. The guy smiles at her, raising an eyebrow, almost defiant. The lady looks straight into his eyes, reproaching him like a mother reproaches her son for wearing her heels, or for putting her lipstick. He moves his fan, slowly, somehow making himself look more feminine.<br/>
She ends up looking away.<br/>
Naturally disgusted.<br/>
<br/>
Louis is fascinated.<br/>
<br/>
And the fact that the second he looks at his left, he notices Harry was paying attention too. To the whole interaction.<br/>
His quiet giggle and cheeky eyes say it all.<br/>
So Louis gives him a little kiss.<br/>
<br/>
He feels the deathly stare from the old lady, but he doesn’t mind.<br/>
He’s never kissed Harry in the Tube.<br/>
<br/>
Now, he can’t help but to make a mental list of all the places he wants to kiss Harry.<br/>
<br/>
<em>In any way that’s interpreted.<br/>
</em><br/>
<br/>
They run through Piccadilly, only to bump into crowds of people in light clothes, flags and signs with a clear <strong>SCRAP SECTION</strong> <strong>28 </strong>written on them. Costumes, loads of organizations, drag queens in huge heels, groups of men without their shirts, some of them with their nipples pierced, blokes with their hair dyed in colors and more rainbow flags held by people of every age, every color, every gender.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
Outrage! was already there too, with black shirts – or no shirts at all–  and tons of banners. Sarah knows a few of them, so they quickly joined them. Their banners alluding at Tony Blair for his clear incompetence, caricaturing him with a big nose.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
And well, also people commemorating what happened in April.<br/>
<br/>
Louis heard about it on the telly, in that time of the year he didn’t speak to Harry. They were ignoring each other, which feels as if it happened a thousand years ago.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
He remembers the way his father made a lame joke about the situation, which weighted heavy on his heart for three long weeks. Louis can’t help but to put himself in every scenario that requires a bit of his empathy so when he knew it happened in a gay pub, he pictured himself there. His mind, full of what-ifs. He thought about how his father might probably feel, or not feel at all.<br/>
He probably wouldn’t care.<br/>
He’s that insensitive.<br/>
<br/>
Louis shakes his head. He’s not going to think about his father. Not right now.<br/>
<br/>
Harry’s looking around, contemplating how surreal it feels to be around so many people altogether, all of them for more or less the same reasons.<br/>
He looks a bit lost.<br/>
<br/>
So Louis reaches for his hand.<br/>
<br/>
As an instinct, Harry moves it away until he notices Louis actually meant it.<br/>
And the way he quickly holds him, so excited, melts his heart.<br/>
<br/>
They’re holding hands.<br/>
In public.<br/>
<br/>
And it doesn’t feel wrong.<br/>
<br/>
There are more people like them. Louis looks around and glimpses more couples holding hands, some with arms intertwined, some firmly waving their flags and laughing out loud, dancing to the up-beat music coming from the cars, snare and bass drums.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
People also wave from their balconies, looking as they walk through the street.<br/>
<br/>
“This is shite.” Sarah’s friend, named Dom, can be barely heard through the shouts, the whistles and the music. “A fuckin’ carnival, that’s what it is. I don’t know what we’re celebrating.”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t be so moody. People are mad, some just like a good dance from time to time to shake it off, you know. There’s no good revolution with a little dancing.” Sarah pats him in the back.<br/>
<br/>
“Feels like dancing on a grave. And I like a good dance, don’t get me wrong, but nothing’s changed and it won’t until we become more radical.” He stubbornly shakes his head.<br/>
<br/>
It feels like a party, though.<br/>
<br/>
“I think we have all the rights to be angry, but also to celebrate <em>love</em> you know? That’s what it’s all about.”<br/>
<br/>
“Shut up, Mitch. You’re straight.” Dom rolls his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“Who told you that?”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Oh? </em><br/>
<em><br/>
</em>“Oh?” Harry and Louis turn their heads, at the same time.<br/>
<br/>
“Mitch is bi, in case y’all forgot about it.” Sarah smirks.<br/>
<br/>
“Have you dated men before?”<br/>
<br/>
“I haven’t. That doesn’t make me any less bisexual, though.”<br/>
<br/>
And it makes so much sense, in Louis’ head.<br/>
He hasn’t thought about it in that extent.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Dom shrugs. “I’m still mad we’re celebrating.”<br/>
<br/>
“Come onnnnn, Dom. You’re being unbearable. We can march and dance and then go to Old Compton later. I heard a bunch of people are going.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, sounds good. Don’t expect me to dance, by the way. I’m awful at it.” He puts his arms around Mitch and Sarah, relaxing his pace.<br/>
<br/>
Louis feels Harry’s sweaty hand, but he doesn’t really mind. Harry looks kind of hyperventilated and distracted with all the noise. <br/>
<br/>
“What do you think?” He shouts.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s loud, I love it.”<br/>
<br/>
“Did you bring the bubbles?”<br/>
<br/>
Louis looks into his bag and starts blowing them. Harry starts laughing, as they hear a car honking its way in. People make space, confused, as the driver rolls down his window and turns the volume from his radio on.<br/>
<br/>
“So he’s taking over the parade.” Harry raises his eyebrows, finding it so amusing.<br/>
<br/>
He’s playing “A Little Respect” by Erasure, and people quickly start jumping, yelling the lyrics. Louis rolls his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“Do we <em>not</em> have more gay songs?”<br/>
<br/>
“Are you complaining? I’m certainly not complaining.” Harry starts dancing too, mocking Louis. He lip-syncs the chorus and Sarah joins, dancing and jumping all around. They grab Louis arms, moving him and encouraging to dance with them. They spin him around and suddenly, it’s a small group of strangers dancing to Andrew Bell’s angelical voice.<br/>
Harry runs, out of nowhere, straight to the driver’s window. They have a small chat about something, Harry smiles and runs back to them.<br/>
<br/>
“What are you doing?”<br/>
<br/>
“Just wait.”<br/>
<br/>
He's never seen Harry like this, so openly himself, so free, so happy.<br/>
<br/>
And, for a reason, he makes him feel like that too. Deep inside his heart, he feels free between people struggling for basically the same reasons as him. They’re all either shouting, dancing, marching, holding hands with their lover or just walking the street as if it were a runway.<br/>
The street belongs to them, even if it’s for a few hours.<br/>
He wishes it they wouldn’t have to wait an entire year to feel safe in the street.<br/>
<br/>
“Do you know him?” Sarah asks, confused.<br/>
<br/>
Harry has a cheeky smile.<br/>
<br/>
Because he asked him to play Rebel Rebel.<br/>
<br/>
<em>That cheeky fucker.</em><br/>
<br/>
He takes his hand again, not singing but performing the song. People clap and sing the lyrics, the same lyrics he wrote on a little paper a few hours ago. Shit, even Dom is dancing.<br/>
So Louis lets himself go.<br/>
He dances with Harry while they keep advancing through Piccadilly. The day is beautifully sunny, everything is rainbow colors and a bunch of queers dancing and marching together.<br/>
<br/>
Louis feels alive.<br/>
<br/>
He kisses Harry again, without thinking. Harry grins against his lips, returns a little kiss and keeps dancing.<br/>
<br/>
Which is enough for him to forget about the rest of the planet.<br/>
It always happens with Harry’s kisses.<br/>
The world goes quiet for a second, and it’s only him.<br/>
<br/>
It’s only him.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
They walk together to Old Compton, where the situation is a bit different.<br/>
<br/>
More people from Outrage are there, holding signs and taking the street. Dom joins them, as well as Sarah and Mitch.<br/>
The energy is completely different from the parade. It feels lugubrious, almost self-conscious. There are rainbow flags and men in dresses, but their expressions are different. They’re mourning.<br/>
Harry walks to the front of Admiral Duncan, the bar that was bombed.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
Flowers decorate the windows and doors. Candles are lightened up, half consumed.<br/>
There is a plaque with three names written on it:<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
Next to their pictures and the flowers, a letter:<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
Louis forgets how to breathe for an instant.<br/>
<br/>
It feels like a bucket full of cold water was thrown at him.<br/>
Like he suddenly remembered the world is, in fact, terrifying.<br/>
He feels dizzy, the same way he feels every time he has dinner at home.<br/>
<br/>
The difference is that he has Harry’s hand to hold him, to calm him down.<br/>
<br/>
But Harry’s eyes are completely fixated on the note, and he’s shaking.<br/>
<br/>
And it feels like New Year’s, all over again. Louis mumbles a <em>come here</em>, cuddling him into his arms the way Harry cuddled him at the elevator when he was too scared to move or make a noise.<br/>
It feels nice to return the favor.<br/>
<br/>
“Harry?”<br/>
<br/>
“M-hm?” Harry asks, buried in his shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
“You know we’re more than just a tragic story, yeah?”<br/>
<br/>
“I know. It still breaks my heart.”<br/>
<br/>
“Mine too.” Louis hugs him tight, breathing in. “We’ll be alright.”<br/>
<br/>
He also takes a deep breath, pressing a kiss on his neck. “We’ll be alright.”<br/>
<br/>
“There will be a better world for us, in the future.”<br/>
<br/>
“You think?”<br/>
<br/>
“I do, yeah.” Louis looks right into his dark, green eyes. Darkened by fear. “I believe, one day, people will walk the streets with no fear in their hearts. I believe kids in the future will do better than us. They will be braver. We’re braver than our parents. That’s something. I know the world’s fucked up, that it feels like this is it and this will it be for us, forever, and it’s not. I believe, one day, these things will stop happening. In the meantime, we wait.” He bops Harry’s nose with the tip of his own nose. “We survive. We exist.” And he whispers, “together.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry stops shaking. He giggles, quietly. Somehow hearing his words calms him too. He holds Louis’ face between his hands and kisses his forehead. “Thank you.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis glances Sarah from afar. She’s looking at them, fonding a little bit.<br/>
<br/>
They walk together, holding hands, to stand next to them just in time to share a minute of silence for the victims.<br/>
It feels like they’re all connected, in some way.<br/>
Maybe it’s the way they love, so differently from each other, but with the same fear in mind. Restless in their hearts.<br/>
There is a range of possibilities of terrible things that can happen to you and your loved ones. This is one of the worst-case scenarios. And it fucking happens.<br/>
<br/>
There’s a man in a wheelchair being hugged. His hand is being held, as he looks to the bar with clear anger and sadness.<br/>
Louis tries not to look at him but it’s hard. Seeing him is both scary and hopeful. Eye-opening and inspiring.<br/>
The “Admiral Duncan” sign is decorated with flowers and flags, and people quietly tearing up letting rainbow balloons float to the sky.<br/>
Louis questions this moment in his life. Love will always feel bittersweet for him. Maybe always is too much of a big word, but it feels right. He’s been thinking about if this is the life he wants for his future, if it’ll worth the trouble, the uneasiness of being oneself in a world that clearly and so-openly think you’re sick, that you’re wrong. That your existence is wrong.<br/>
 <br/>
It doesn’t feel wrong.<br/>
<br/>
It feels real, especially when he holds Harry’s hand.<br/>
<br/>
Louis wonders if Harry feels the same way. If he makes him feel safe, just like Harry makes him feel.<br/>
He likes to think he does.<br/>
<br/>
Louis feels his arms around his waist, as he snuzzles on his shoulder. He’s been getting used to it, to rest or hide on his neck when he feels stressed or sad. He has to stoop a bit, but he doesn’t mind.<br/>
A man starts giving a speech Louis barely listens, as he gets distracted with Harry’s breath against his skin. Not distracted. Hypnotized.<br/>
A tingle on the pit of his stomach.<br/>
<br/>
Time stops for a minute.<br/>
<br/>
He looks around again, all these people gathered together in the same place and suddenly, he doesn’t feel like a minority.<br/>
<em>We’ll grow up.<br/>
We’ll have a future.<br/>
We’re not alone.<br/>
<br/>
</em>Louis keeps that feeling on his heart, and he hopes he’ll remember it whenever he feels alone or scared.<br/>
He feels proud.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
They spend a few hours talking to Dom and some of his friends from Outrage. For Louis it’s like therapy, especially since Dom had also a homophobic family.<br/>
<br/>
“Mum found out first,” he nods, “she’s very religious so she practically ran to tell my dad about it, about the pictures she found under my bed. I’m a photographer so I used to take loads of pictures of my boyfriend, some of them naked and all. I was planning to save like a hundred of them, for the future. They burned them all. They packed some of my clothes, threw my camera away and left my bags at the front yard, in the lawn, with 20 euros inside. That’s all they left me. I was lucky enough to have a place to stay for a few weeks, but it was tough.”<br/>
<br/>
“When did it happen?” Harry asks, pealing an orange. Eyes fixed on Dom.<br/>
<br/>
“Two years ago. Now I have a job, a real family. Me and Tony, my boyfriend, live together in a flat in Westminster. It’s small but we don’t use too much space either.”<br/>
<br/>
“Do you still work as a photographer?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m a photojournalist, which is my dream job. I also work for Outrage with John, in our little blog; I don’t know if you’ve been lucky enough to talk to him. He’s a rockstar.” He takes a sip of his bottle, and then takes a long glance at Louis. “You seem to be like me. Well, like how I used to be.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry also looks at him, tenderness in his eyes. “What do you mean?”<br/>
<br/>
“You’ve been looking around the last two hours.” He smiles in empathy. “You’re not from here, right?” Louis shakes his head. “Then don’t worry. Nobody’s gonna see you. I don’t think the world’s so small for you to find into a familiar face.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis didn’t notice he’d been looking over his shoulder all this time.<br/>
<br/>
“Is it dad?” Dom lights up a cigarette. Louis nods, pressing his lips. Dom talks right to him, as if he’s talking to his younger self. “Don’t worry about it. Might seem bad right now but it’ll pass eventually. Not because he’s related to you in blood it means he’s your family, or that he has a say on your life.”<br/>
<br/>
“My sisters support me, though.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s nice.” He smiles. “That’s actually super useful.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis swallows. “Do you think things will change? In the future, I mean.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s a hard question, but I think it will, yeah.” He takes a puff. “At least we’re not illegal anymore. Sorta. That’s a pro. Shit like this-“ Points at the bar. ”Will keep happening to us for a while. Doesn’t mean I’m not hopeful for the future. I am, I’m just trying to be realistic.”<br/>
<br/>
“I guess we’re all trying to be realistic.” Harry intervenes. “It’s ok to dream about it, sometimes. Like, imagine if we can finally get married in the future. I know it sounds bloody mental, but- I mean, it could be legal at some point.”<br/>
<br/>
“That sounds beautiful, but I think we need to sort out this shit first.” Dom looks at the bar again. “You know, to stop getting killed so we can get married. And have children.”<br/>
<br/>
“Do you wanna have children?”<br/>
<br/>
“I do. Tony loves kids, he’s so good with them.” He smiles, and then rolls his eyes. “I sound so married already.”<br/>
<br/>
“You don’t have to wait for it to be legal to get married.” Louis smiles in sympathy. Something about Dom reminds him of himself. Like seeing himself in the future.<br/>
<br/>
“I know.” Dom nods, taking another puff. Looks at Louis and Harry thoroughly. “You both seem like a nice couple. You should protect each other.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Couple.<br/>
</em><br/>
He looks at Harry, trying to read his face. He didn’t even flinch with the word; he just smiles, fondly.<br/>
So Louis smiles too.<br/>
<br/>
“Harry’s the one that protects me, actually.”<br/>
<br/>
He returns the sight, blushing at instant. He looks like he’s going to say something but Sarah interrupts.<br/>
<br/>
“Is he giving you relationship counseling? Dom, again?”<br/>
<br/>
“I wasn’t.” He looks offended.<br/>
<br/>
“Not because you have a perfect boyfriend it means you have to shove it up to our faces.” She sits next to him. “Where is he, by the way?”<br/>
<br/>
“He’s at work” He pouts. “But he said you can always visit afterwards. Friends included.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, yes! Please, I’d love to go. Harry? Louis? Up for it?”<br/>
<br/>
“Actually I’m a bit tired.” Harry responds, putting a hand on Louis’ knee. “And I’m starving.”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t be boring!” She frowns. “We should have a little fun.”<br/>
<br/>
“What he means, my dear, is that he wants to shag his lovely boyfriend.” Dom smirks. Harry’s eyes widen like plates. “Let them be. They can visit any time, though. Our house is always open for you too.”<br/>
<br/>
“I didn’t –“<br/>
<br/>
Louis puts his hand on Harry’s, laughing it off. “We’re just hungry, that’s all.”<br/>
<br/>
“Right, and my name is Judy.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry giggles and looks down, somehow blushing even more.<br/>
<br/>
<em>So, does he want to? </em><br/>
Because Louis could fucking sprint home right now.<br/>
<br/>
Harry pats his knee, turns and says:<br/>
<br/>
“I’m just – I’m definitely in the mood for pizza. Are you in the mood for pizza?”<br/>
<br/>
Louis doesn’t think twice. “I’m in the mood for pizza, yeah.”<br/>
<br/>
“Ugh, get a room.” Mitch sits next to Dom, putting an arm around him. “Do you still have your computer?”<br/>
<br/>
“Why?”<br/>
<br/>
And Louis stops listening.<br/>
Obviously.<br/>
He's mesmerized by Harry’s cheeky stare.<br/>
<br/>
They exchange numbers with Dom, Sarah gives them the keys to the flat.<br/>
<br/>
“We’ll be back by 10 I think, so please don’t make a mess.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, you’ll meet Tony! He’ll love you both so much.” Dom shakes hands with them. “See you later, have fun!”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, they will.” She mocks them, Harry waves and they start walking among the crowds.<br/>
<br/>
Before leaving, Harry leads the way to the plaque again.<br/>
He puts his hand on it, closes his eyes and stands there for a minute; not letting go of Louis’ hand.<br/>
<br/>
“What are you doing?” He asks.<br/>
<br/>
“Saying goodbye. It’s the least I can do.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis decides to do the same thing. He puts a hand on the plaque and thinks about those people he didn’t meet. He feels the need to say sorry, so he thinks about it. Louis is not sure if it works this way since he’s not the spiritual kind, but he tries. He tries because it’s important for Harry as well, and because of how much he’s taught him about this.<br/>
With Dom’s words on his mind, he says goodbye.<br/>
<br/>
Louis looks at Harry, he looks visibly better afterwards.<br/>
<br/>
They start walking, and it’s probably the longest walk Louis has ever had in his life. Harry doesn’t stop, though. He walks and walks and walks and Louis doesn’t understand how he does it without losing his breath. He has asthma, for fuck’s sake. <br/>
<br/>
“Let’s go to Tesco!”<br/>
<br/>
“What for?”<br/>
<br/>
“I wanna cook you something. What would you like to eat?”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh – eh… I don’t know, anything you wanna do.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry nods, and they walk to a Tesco that’s a few streets away from the flat. It’s quite empty, and Harry floats through its aisles picking different condiments and some fresh pasta. He knows how much Harry loves pasta.<br/>
The white lights reflect on Harry’s flushed cheeks, so he might got a little sunburned.<br/>
As if he’s been kissed by the sun.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Oh, god.<br/>
</em><br/>
And the funny thing is he spends literally ten minutes only watching him doing stuff. Walking, picking up stuff, saying hi to the cashier, paying, taking the bags, walking out again. Everything he does he manages to make it special, unique, dreamy-like. Even when he talks about life or Britney Spears, it’s special. Louis pays the same amount of attention.<br/>
<br/>
When Harry  opens the door, and they get in, Louis doesn’t wait for him to leave the bags on the kitchen table.<br/>
He kisses him, no hesitating.<br/>
<br/>
Harry tries to mutter something against his lips but ends up dropping the bags on the floor. Louis grips on his shirt and pulls him against the wall, opening his mouth and kissing him deeper.<br/>
It feels like breathing again.<br/>
Harry puts his hands on his face, running them to his neck. It’s what he always does. Louis loves it.<br/>
<br/>
But this time he moves them right to Louis’ hips.<br/>
<br/>
Louis tilts his head and starts kissing his neck, taking a deep breath. Harry’s smell is quite addictive. He gives him little bites near his jawline, to then bite his earlobe softly.<br/>
<br/>
“I like it when you do that,” Harry mumbles in a deep, raspy voice.<br/>
<br/>
“You do?” Louis whispers against his neck, pressing more little kisses.<br/>
<br/>
“M-hm.”<br/>
<br/>
He’s got his eyes closed. It’s like every time he wants to feel something clearer, he closes his eyes to do so. Whenever he’s listening to a song, or he’s feeling the wind against his face, or he’s eating something he likes, or to feel Louis’ kisses. It’s another small detail that’s grown into Louis’ heart and memory.<br/>
He’s beautiful, so beautiful it hurts a little.<br/>
<br/>
“I wanna cook.” He says, head leaning on the wall.<br/>
<br/>
“You can cook later.” Louis bites his lower lip. Harry’s glance changes instantly.<br/>
<br/>
“But I’m hungry.”<br/>
<br/>
“Later,” he breathes. “I promise we’ll get food.”<br/>
<br/>
“Later?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah.”<br/>
<br/>
“After what?”<br/>
<br/>
Silence.<br/>
<br/>
Louis doesn’t know how to ask.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Well, fuck.<br/>
Not literally but metaphorically.<br/>
Might be also quite literally.<br/>
<br/>
</em>“I… don’t… know.” Louis shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
And Harry giggles. “So you don’t want me to cook now and you don’t know why?”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Damn it, Harold, why are you making this so hard?<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Alright, cook if you want. Be my guest.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry raises his eyebrows, nods and repeats “alright, alright” as he takes the bags from the floor, not breaking the stare.<br/>
<em><br/>
He's teasing. He’s fucking teasing.<br/>
<br/>
</em>And so much’s been going on the past hour that Louis hasn’t been able to catch up entirely.<br/>
The “boyfriend” subject stays unspoken still. <em><br/>
</em>And Harry quietly starts preparing the food.<br/>
<br/>
“Mitch has CD’s?”<br/>
<br/>
“Probably.” Harry responds, focused on washing the vegetables. “Check if he has bossa nova or something like that.”<br/>
<br/>
“So… Brazilian music and Italian food?”<br/>
<br/>
He stops, looks at him dramatically, and responds, “are <em>you</em> the one who’s cooking?”<br/>
<br/>
Louis squints, and quietly starts looking for music. “No bossa nova here.”<br/>
<br/>
“You sure?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yep.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh.” He looks a bit disappointed. “Ok, you pick.”<br/>
<br/>
“Thank you?”<br/>
<br/>
He now starts chopping the vegetables, so Louis tries to pick the right album. He knows how picky Harry is when it comes to the perfect music to do stuff and, for a reason, he loves to cook while listening to music in some foreign language. He quietly reminds himself to ask him about it later.<br/>
<br/>
He picks an album.<br/>
Everybody loves The Doors.<br/>
<br/>
When Harry hears the beginning of “Roadhouse Blues”, he giggles and shakes his head.<br/>
<br/>
“That’s not bossa nova.”<br/>
<br/>
“You told me to pick an album.”<br/>
<br/>
“But this is not music for cooking.”<br/>
<br/>
“Music for cooking?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah.” He semi-pouts and frowns. <em>Looks like a spoiled kid.<br/>
<br/>
</em>Louis walks behind him, dancing foolishly. He puts his hands on his waist.<br/>
<br/>
“You also make mixtapes for cooking?”<br/>
<br/>
“I thought you knew me.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, I do. There’s a song in this album I know you’ll like.”<br/>
<br/>
“Do you?” Harry turns to look at him, smirking, fonding.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re a bit predictable in your taste.”<br/>
<br/>
He opens his mouth, now offended. “You did not just called me predictable.”<br/>
<br/>
“You couldn’t be even if you tried,” Louis kisses his cheek. “But in music, yeah, a bit. You like the Velvets, take it from there and suddenly I just figured your top 5.”<br/>
<br/>
“Tell me, then.” He continues to chop up his vegetables. “Why couldn’t you figure out which music I wanted for cooking if I’m so predictable.”<br/>
<br/>
“Because I knew you wouldn’t like it.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry rolls his eyes, smirk never leaving his face. “Well, joke’s on you, I do enjoy some Jim Morrison in the kitchen. Thank you.”<br/>
<br/>
“You really like it?”<br/>
<br/>
“A bit, yeah. What’s the name of this one?”<br/>
<br/>
“You don’t know?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry squints. “Not because I like music it means I know every Door’s album.”<br/>
<br/>
“Morrison Hotel.”<br/>
<br/>
“Lovely.”<br/>
<br/>
So they listen, each on their own. Louis goes to lie on the sofa, looking at the ceiling, listening to Morrison’s voice as Harry cooks, completely immersed on his doing.<br/>
Louis closes his eyes for a second, only a second, and he feels calm. For the first time in months.<br/>
And it’s not because of Harry. Well, it might be, but it’s because he’s lying there and not expecting someone will kick him out of there. He’s enjoying Harry’s presence, even from afar, as he’s busy doin’ nothing.<br/>
<br/>
That’s it. He’s doing nothing.<br/>
He’s there doing nothing.<br/>
It's an unexplored feeling.<br/>
<br/>
He wants to live alone so bad.<br/>
Or at least, to have his own place. Harry could cook all he wants and he’ll lie there, listening to Harry’s cheesy albums or his own boring ones.<br/>
<br/>
He knows what song is next so he walks to the kitchen again. Harry’s straining the pasta and putting butternut squash pieces on a pan, already peppered and salted, with some garlic on it.<br/>
<br/>
“When did you do that?”<br/>
<br/>
“Now. You didn’t notice?”<br/>
<br/>
“I didn’t, no. That looks amazing.”<br/>
<br/>
“Thank you.” He puts it on the oven, quickly washes his hands, and hugs Louis right when the song’s about to finish.<br/>
<br/>
“Indian Summer” starts playing.<br/>
<br/>
Louis puts his hands on Harry’s waist again –not that he can’t keep his hands out of there lately—and Harry puts his arms around his neck. They both start swaying to Jim Morrison’s soothing, dreamy voice.<br/>
<br/>
“You were right.” Harry smiles. “This is a good one.”<br/>
<br/>
“Told you.”<br/>
<br/>
“I love this.”<br/>
<br/>
“This?”<br/>
<br/>
“This moment, right here. Feels like we’ve been doing this for years.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah.”<br/>
<br/>
“Maybe we have been, in some way.”<br/>
<br/>
A Harry’s reflection is not a Harry’s reflection without a bit of existentialism in it.<br/>
<br/>
And actually Louis doesn’t like to dance that much, but Harry does, and he gives him enough comfort to do so.<br/>
Harry kisses him in the middle of the solo, softly as everything feels around him.<br/>
<br/>
The next song starts, and Harry starts moving his shoulders to the rhythm. Louis imitates him, since he doesn’t know what he is trying to do. Does he wanna keep dancing?<br/>
He takes Louis’ hands, moving them, trying to get him to dance along. A few clumsy steps suddenly turn into synchronous steps. Proper steps. And Louis and Harry dance as if nobody’s watching.<br/>
Because nobody’s watching.<br/>
He makes him spin, and Louis closes his eyes.<br/>
Maybe everything does feel better when you close them.<br/>
<br/>
So they just dance, feeling as if they were the coolest people in the world. The sweet smell from the oven makes him remember they’re, in fact, dancing in the kitchen. He looks at Harry and he’s also with his eyes closed, feeling himself, smiling carelessly.<br/>
<br/>
Louis kisses him again.<br/>
Harry’s lips taste so sweet it’s almost addicting; he returns the kiss, parting his lips slightly. Heat rosing from Louis’ stomach all the way through his chest as he wants more, more, more. He’s not aware of when his fingers decided to slip under Harry’s shirt, giving him shivers.<br/>
He takes a few steps back, not breaking the kiss, as the tries to sit above the counter. Harry wraps his legs around him, getting Louis close enough to lock his feet behind him. Louis rests his hands on his thighs, his thumb rubbing his inner thigh, subtly.<br/>
Harry inhales, running his fingers through Louis’ hair.<br/>
<br/>
“Lou.”<br/>
<br/>
“Mh?”<br/>
<br/>
“The oven.”<br/>
<br/>
“Fuck the oven.”<br/>
<br/>
He giggles against his lips. “But the butternut squash.”<br/>
<br/>
“Fuck the butternut squash.”<br/>
<br/>
“At least let me turn it off.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis goes directly to his neck, licking and biting just like he was doing before Harry decided to cook all of a sudden. He groans deep, and Louis starts moving his hand up to his groin.<br/>
<br/>
“Louis.” Harry protests, but he doesn’t move. “Please, the oven.”<br/>
<br/>
“Fuck the oven.” He repeats, breathily.<br/>
<br/>
“Let’s go to the room, then.”<br/>
<br/>
He stops, and looks at him. His cheeks already blushed. “Now you want to go to the room?”<br/>
<br/>
“What?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yesterday you didn’t seem to care much about going somewhere private, did you?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry looks at him, all cheeky. “I was high.”<br/>
<br/>
“It didn’t stop you.”<br/>
<br/>
“Can you stop being stubborn and take me to bed?”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Oh, well.<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Alright, ok. Jesus, Harry, you don’t have to beg like that.” He takes a few steps back, laughing like an idiot. Harry gets off the counter and turns off the oven.<br/>
And then stands there. For like an entire minute.<br/>
<br/>
“What now?”<br/>
<br/>
“Promise we’ll eat later?”<br/>
<br/>
“I promise. I’m starving, really.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry nods, quietly, as he walks to the radio and picks an album.<br/>
Of course he wants to listen to the Velvets.<br/>
<br/>
He walks, all cocky, to the room. A cheeky smile decorating his full, red lips. Louis takes off his shoes and leaves them by the door. Harry is sitting at the edge of the bed.<br/>
<br/>
Louis walks, stands in front of him, and this height difference is actually enjoyable. He’s looking up, and something from his glance feels… kind of obscene. Maybe it’s the music, or the way he looks to his trousers and licks his lips. He’s teasing, again.<br/>
<br/>
He tilts his head, never breaking the already-intense stare between them, and the room suddenly feels heavier. Hotter. Louis feels his own cheeks blushing. Harry knows what he’s doing, and fuck, he’s literally only looking at him.<br/>
<br/>
“What are you thinking about?” Harry asks with a raspy voice, sounding so innocent at the same time.<br/>
<br/>
“Absolutely nothing. What about you?”<br/>
<br/>
“I have a few things in mind.”<br/>
<br/>
“Like what?”<br/>
<br/>
His right hand starts stroking his thigh, and shit. Of course. He knows what that does to him. He’s done it before.<br/>
<br/>
“Casual stuff,” he continues, making circles with his fingertips on Louis’ thigh. “Things I want to do, things I want you to do to me.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Fuck.<br/>
<br/>
</em>“You call that casual?”<br/>
<br/>
“Just some random thoughts.” His voice, now raspy and sweet, gives Louis shivers up his spine. <em>He is literally just talking. What even-<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Care to explain?”<br/>
<br/>
“I would rather do them than explaining them.”<br/>
<br/>
He reaches the button from Louis’ trousers and starts unzipping them.<br/>
Louis swears he’s never seen <em>this</em> Harry.<br/>
<br/>
With a steady hand, which is kind of rare in him, he starts rubbing his cock from base to top above his briefs. For Louis is already hard to breathe correctly. His touch makes him dizzy.<br/>
<br/>
Harry pulls his trousers and briefs all the way to his knees.<br/>
<br/>
“May I?”<br/>
<br/>
He doesn’t wait for an answer.<br/>
Louis’ not sure when he became so fucking good at it. He was already, but the way he so confidently takes him into his mouth, without hesitating, with absolutely no warning, makes his heart pound faster.<br/>
He takes his time, bobbing his head in and out and coordinating with his right hand. Louis feels weak on his knees.<br/>
Especially when Harry decides to grab his bum, both hands, and takes him even deeper inside his mouth.<br/>
<em>Oh, shit.<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Harry, uh-“ He can’t get himself to finish the sentence. Gets harder to contain himself from moaning too loud, so he takes a firm grip on Harry’s hair to compensate the dizziness.<br/>
<br/>
And Harry stops.<br/>
His eyes a bit glazed.<br/>
He takes his own clothes off quickly. Louis glances and notices how big he’s too. He takes his trousers and briefs off. His serious expression turns into a cheeky one again<br/>
<br/>
“Your shirt.”<br/>
<br/>
“What about it?”<br/>
<br/>
“Take it off.”<br/>
<br/>
“Why do you hate my shirts so much?”<br/>
<br/>
He chuckles and looks down, and for a second it looks like the dead-pan-serious-intimidating-and-a-bit-horny Harry has left the building.<br/>
He couldn’t be more wrong about it.<br/>
Harry gets up and takes it off himself, throws it somewhere far away. He looks at his love bites, a proud look in his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“I did those.”<br/>
<br/>
He holds his wrists and guides him to the bed. Louis carefully lies on top of him, between his legs.<br/>
Harry locks his legs on his back Louis claims his mouth again, same intensity as before.<br/>
His hands move to Louis’ back, dragging his nails when he bites his lower lip.<br/>
Louis feels like he’s dreaming.<br/>
<br/>
Grinding him so raw and close doesn’t compare to anything else he’s ever felt, even when he’s done it before, so he can’t help wondering how it will feel to proper-fuck him. This, on its own, is sultry enough.<br/>
<br/>
“Harry.” Louis whispered by his ear, more like moaning. “Harry. Harry. Harry.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s- yeah. My name.” Harry decided not to blame himself on such a stupid reaction. He’s off-to-the-races turned on. <br/>
<br/>
“I bought - fuck, I bought condoms. And-“ He can’t even get himself to finish the sentence. He just wants to run and get them and stop talking.<br/>
<br/>
“You did?” Harry’s voice breaks a little, as he grins in relief. “That’s g-good, yeah. Where are they?”<br/>
<br/>
“In my bag.”<br/>
<br/>
He sighs. “Mmh, too far. Don’t wanna let you go.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry kisses him, hunger and arousal taking over this time. Louis also hates that he has to actually leave the bed to look for it.<br/>
So he goes fast.<br/>
It doesn’t feel weird walking naked in front of Harry, which is rather nice.<br/>
He opens the boxes to take out the lube and the condom, throws them somewhere in the bed and sits next to Harry.<br/>
His curls are not on their usual shape, but rather messy and all over the place. His lips still red. Louis leans to press a small kiss on his ribs; he feels Harry’s chest expanding from the deep breaths he takes. A trail of kisses until he only brushes his own lips to his hip bone. Louis moves again, accommodating himself to press more kisses, closer and closer to Harry’s groin.<br/>
<br/>
“Mind if I use this?” He takes the lube, and Harry shakes his head. Gaze lost in every action.<br/>
Louis opens it and pours a tiny bit on his fingers and palm. It feels cold. He takes a grip of Harry’s cock and starts moving his hand, just the way he knows Harry likes it. A deep groan comes out of Harry’s throat, as he tilts his head back on the pillow. Louis gets him wet enough, so he tries to take him in.<br/>
He sucks the head of his cock and, because of the lube, it takes like precome and strawberries. It’s actually good, for his surprise. He feels Harry twitch inside his mouth in response when he decides to suck him good. His head still resting in the pillow.<br/>
<br/>
It feels warm and thick on his mouth, but he’s not complaining. At all. Shyness leaves the room and all he can hear is Harry moaning as Louis keeps bobbing his head and sucking him off, and it’s a beautiful sound. He tries to please him in every way he can imagine.<br/>
<br/>
He stops for a second to pour more lube on his fingers.<br/>
Harry looks wrecked already.<br/>
Instinctively, he rolls himself on his tummy and lies there, waiting. Louis’ hands are shaking now, and he’s not sure if it’s because <em>fuck-this-is-actually-happening </em>or because he’s actually nervous. He knows Harry hasn’t done this before. Absolutely nothing, and he gets to be the first one. Him, who’s been lucky enough to pretty much breathe his air. Harry, who’s probably the purest, most beautiful person in the world. In his world. Louis gets to be the first one.<br/>
So he wants to do it good.<br/>
Even when he knows first times aren’t usually perfect.<br/>
<br/>
He rests on his elbow, getting close to Harry as his other hand moves to his bum. He gives him little kisses on his shoulders.<br/>
<br/>
“Is this ok?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah. M’fine.” He mumbles in a soft tone.<br/>
<br/>
“If you want me to stop I’ll stop, alright?”<br/>
<br/>
His green eyes, now dark like raw emeralds, are hard to read. Louis doesn’t know if he’s feeling the same way as he does, if he’s nervous too, if he’s as lost as he is in this moment. Louis surely is.<br/>
The rest of the world is gone, for his concern.<br/>
<br/>
Carefully, he spreads him open and pours more lube, which makes Harry shiver a bit. He presses a finger inside of him, slow, and Harry hisses. Louis is not sure if he should keep going, but Harry doesn’t say a thing. Instead, he moves.<br/>
It feels tight, wet and warm. And so fucking good.<br/>
He bottoms out, moving as he’s attentive of Harry’s reaction. It doesn’t bother him, on the contrary.<br/>
He moves in, again.<br/>
Harry’s body feels responsive as he keeps going, still careful, less nervous.<br/>
Louis doesn’t even notice when he’s got two fingers inside of him.<br/>
<br/>
“We should’ve done this a while ago,” Harry growls against the pillow, as he arches his back to meet his fingers properly.<br/>
<br/>
“I didn’t know you wanted to.” Louis manages to talk without stuttering, because he’s actually losing his mind. Harry’s perfectly bended, enough for him to move his fingers in and out, and in again. He hears tiny moans leaving his mouth, as he keeps moving faster and faster.<br/>
<br/>
“Lou- ah,” his legs twitching when he pulls out.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah?”<br/>
<br/>
“Try one more.”<br/>
<br/>
And so he does, same delicacy at first, to then just let Harry move the way he pleases. He moves his fingers a bit once he’s inside again, and Harry’s body jerks. He moans loudly, and only by the sound he makes Louis thinks he might got it right this time. He moves a couple times until Harry cries out.<br/>
<br/>
“Louis. Lou, ah – please. I want you.”<br/>
<br/>
“Now?”<br/>
<br/>
“I want you to fuck me.” He responds, breathily.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you sure?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes, please.” He groans.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Jesus Christ.<br/>
<br/>
</em>Those two only words make him feel a tingle at the pit of his stomach.</p><p>Louis takes his fingers out and rushes to put on the condom. He notices how Harry rolls over to his back again, opening his legs to let him slide between them.<br/>
<br/>
“I want to see you.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis grins, “you’re doing so good.”<br/>
<br/>
Mentally thanks whomever bring lube into this world, as he pours some more on his cock.<br/>
<br/>
He leans on his elbows, trying not to put too much weight into Harry, as he accommodates himself.<br/>
<br/>
“Remember, if it hurts just let me know.”<br/>
<br/>
He responds with a kiss.<br/>
They’re both shaking and sweating, but it doesn’t matter.<br/>
He pushes in, observing his reaction. It feels unbearably tight and wet around him, nothing like he’s ever felt before -at least, in this way-, and it’s so fucking good. They both let a moan out almost at the same time, as Louis tries to go slow so it won’t hurt him. Apparently it doesn’t that much, judging by the way Harry clutches on his shoulder, digging his nails when he bottoms out inside him.<br/>
<br/>
“Is it ok?”<br/>
<br/>
“It hurts a little, but I can take it.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis pants as he pulls out, carefully, and thrusts into him. It makes him dig his nails on Louis’ skin again, but it’s worth it.<br/>
<br/>
“Fuck, Harry. You feel so good,” he says as he takes a steady pace. Harry doesn’t speak, but rather lets little gasps out and shuts his eyes, and judging by his expression, he’s getting used to it.<br/>
<br/>
Louis clutches Harry’s hip as he keeps thrusting into him, now that his body has gotten more responsive, a bit faster.<br/>
Harry’s forehead all sweaty, his legs shaking, and Louis is so fucking lost into him he could melt and never leave him.<br/>
“You look so beautiful,” Louis lets out between groans and Harry kisses him –rather tries to kiss him since he’s moving, which makes it harder—and Louis could burst into every emotion he’s feeling right now. He’s more feelings than a physical body. And everything is Harry.<br/>
Harry.<br/>
Harry.<br/>
<br/>
“Harder, please,” Harry whims, heaving a sigh, so Louis gets on it. He grips his hips now with both hands, doing as he’s told. He loves to watch Harry so mercilessly lost into this.<br/>
He hears the headboard smashing against the wall, but none of them seem to care. It could be a problem later, yeah, probably. But they’re alone.<br/>
He hopes they’re alone and that they didn’t randomly decide to come back to the house, because they’re so bloody loud right now. He also hopes the neighbors won’t complain, or that they’re not home as well.<br/>
<br/>
He feels sweaty on his back, forehead, chest. Pretty much everywhere.<br/>
Harry’s biting his lower lip, lifting his hips to meet him even deeper.<br/>
Louis tries to move until he finds his spot, which makes him cry out instantly.<br/>
So he decides to do something else.<br/>
He lets go of his grip to wrap his hand around Harry’s cock, jerking him off as he keeps fucking him.<br/>
<br/>
“Louis – wait. Please, I’m gonna come.”<br/>
<br/>
He keeps going, smirking as he feels Harry shaking even more under him. He pushes into him harder and harder, skin slapping until Louis feels himself about to come too.<br/>
<br/>
“Come. I want you to come.”<br/>
<br/>
And with a last thrust, Harry comes all over his stomach with a loud moan and fingers so deeply clasped into Louis’ shoulders, he thinks he’ll probably get a bruise from it. Louis follows right after, coming inside him as he whimpers and crumbles on top of him.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
It takes them a while to recover.<br/>
<br/>
Louis pulls out, which makes Harry hiss and tremble with eyes still closed. He takes off the condom, ties it and tosses it, somehow successfully, in the bin next to the nightstand.<br/>
He feels as if he’d ran a full marathon.<br/>
The music stopped a while ago, way before they finished. Louis looks down and Harry is panting, chest and face blushed to death. He decides to lick off the come on his tummy, which makes Harry’s body jerk again.<br/>
<br/>
“Fucking hell, Louis.” Furrowed brows and a weird smile on his face, he sisses. Louis plants a trail of kisses and lies next to Harry, as he cuddles him. His arm hugs him over his tummy, which makes him shiver, and Louis looks at him. “Sorry, m’still bit sensitive.” His eyes barely open, he looks wasted. “Actually, I don’t know if I still can feel my legs.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sorry, love.” He kisses his collarbone, inhaling him. “Mmm. Love your smell.”<br/>
<br/>
“Why? I’m so sweaty. And don’t be sorry.” He smiles, that charming smile he does whenever he looks at him. Louis compares it to a sunflower. “I loved it.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah?”<br/>
<br/>
“Absolutely,” his eyes crinkle as his smile turns wider. “I… fuck, I can’t even talk.”<br/>
<br/>
“And move?”<br/>
<br/>
“Shut up. Don’t wanna know yet.”<br/>
<br/>
“You were fantastic.”<br/>
<br/>
“I barely did anything,” he says, and his voice sounds like hot chocolate in a cold winter day.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh but you did,” Louis kisses him again, his lips tasting now salty. “You did.”<br/>
<br/>
They hug each other closer, imitating and coordinating their breathing patterns, as they let themselves dissolve into the moment. Louis feels Harry in every sense of the word: his taste, his body, his smell. He looks at him as he hears him breathing in, and out.<br/>
This is probably the best day he’s ever had, in a thousand years.<br/>
And Harry,<br/>
Harry,<br/>
Oh, Harry.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
He wakes up as the sunset falls upon them, silently over their window.<br/>
<br/>
The room is dark but not enough for him to see around. The room feels big, no other sound than the traffic and the people outside the apartment.<br/>
He hears laughs, motorbikes, buses, illegible conversations from people he probably won’t meet, ever. Louis recognizes sirens that quickly vanishes into an orchestra of sounds from the city.<br/>
London is so fucking loud, even when silent.<br/>
<br/>
His arm feels numb. Harry’s asleep on it, mouth part open and drooling on his skin.<br/>
He looks painfully adorable, so Louis giggles quietly to not wake him up. Judging by the light outside, it must be like 8 pm or so.<br/>
Louis remembers that he’s naked, and Harry’s naked body lying next to him. Even though he’s had sex before, he’s never been this intimate with anyone. Obviously, he didn’t try with Eleanor; he couldn’t bring himself into it.<br/>
Harry’s different.<br/>
With his free hand, he starts caressing and playing with his hair, taking some curls out of his face.<br/>
<br/>
And an overwhelming feeling on his heart.<br/>
It feels bittersweet. A heaviness that, for some reason, makes him want to cry.<br/>
He’s scared.<br/>
But not of Harry, he could never be. He’s scared from the future. From the rest of the world.<br/>
They’re safe in this very moment, but nothing secures what will happen afterwards once they get back to school and they start hanging out. Nobody can make sure they will be able to go through an entire year without fucking it up, at least once.<br/>
Because how can someone pretend not to love Harry?<br/>
Not to care about him?<br/>
Because everything else disappears when it comes to him, every single time.<br/>
He shines on his own, and Louis can’t take his eyes off of him.<br/>
How long it’ll take people to notice, too?<br/>
<br/>
Not only at school, though.<br/>
If it were up to him, he wouldn’t see Eleanor anymore. Never again.<br/>
It's not that easy.<br/>
Louis doesn’t want to be kissed, or touched, by no one else but Harry.<br/>
But that’s not how it works.<br/>
He knows it.<br/>
Harry knows it.<br/>
Does he?<br/>
<br/>
A lump in his throat.<br/>
He doesn’t want to come back.<br/>
He daydreams about asking Harry to stay, maybe use part of his own savings and look for a room in the meantime, as he looks for a work. Shit, even asking the bloke from earlier if they can crash there and leave their own city behind. That fake life behind.<br/>
Of course he won’t.<br/>
He couldn’t ask such a thing.<br/>
Not when Harry has more to lose than him.<br/>
<br/>
He swallows, and Harry inhales deeply as he slowly starts to wake up.<br/>
His green eyes dissipating every intrusive, hurtful thought.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey, sleepyhead,” Louis whispers, and his voice breaks at first since he still feels the lump. Harry closes his eyes again, and grunts in response. “You’re drooling.”<br/>
<br/>
It wakes him up. Mumbles a few intelligible things before cleaning his lips and Louis’ arm, gauchely. “M’sorry. Are you alright? When did you wake up?”<br/>
<br/>
“A while ago.”<br/>
<br/>
“And you didn’t wake me?”<br/>
<br/>
“Mh-m. ‘was Enjoying the view.”<br/>
<br/>
With groggy eyes, he responds, “I was literally drooling in your arm.”<br/>
<br/>
“So?”<br/>
<br/>
“Not pretty.”<br/>
<br/>
“What if one day I drool your arm?”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s different. I wouldn’t care.”<br/>
<br/>
“See? I don’t mind either.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry squints but smiles, barely awake. “What time is it?”<br/>
<br/>
“No idea, but it just got dark. Not that I really care.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry leans on his elbow to get a better look of Louis’ face. He tends to do that too; his pupils go from his eyebrows, eyes, down to his nose and lips. “Hey, handsome.”<br/>
<br/>
It gives him butterflies. “Hey, beautiful.”<br/>
<br/>
“I think I haven’t slept that good in months.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis frowns. “Mmm, I wonder why.”<br/>
<br/>
“Did you sleep ok?” He titters.<br/>
<br/>
“I did, actually. It was a good nap.”<br/>
<br/>
“Good, indeed.” He leans to nuzzle Louis’ nose with his own nose. “Can I ask you something?”<br/>
<br/>
“Obviously.” Louis faces him.<br/>
<br/>
“Have you ever done it with another boy?”<br/>
<br/>
“Mmm… well, I don’t know if it counts but –“<br/>
<br/>
“Oh?” Harry frowns, a tiny bit of jealousy in his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“I mean I’ve never done <em>this</em> before with another boy, if that’s your specific question.”<br/>
<br/>
“What did you do, then?”<br/>
<br/>
“Do you really wanna know?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m curious.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis purses his lips. “Ok, so – it happened in year ten...”<br/>
<br/>
“Year ten?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yep. There was this boy in my team who was actually pretty bad, and I was captain so I was constantly trying to help him. He was cute, yeah, and for some reason always insisted on staying last when the practice was over. So, naturally, one day we were talking after a match in the locker room, and it just – happened.”<br/>
<br/>
“So you’re not giving me details?”<br/>
<br/>
“You want details?”<br/>
<br/>
“No, I mean – maybe. I wanna know.”<br/>
<br/>
“Harry, it wasn’t special.”<br/>
<br/>
“But still, it was your first time, right?”<br/>
<br/>
“It was a boring handjob.”<br/>
<br/>
They giggle, and Harry rolls his eyes. “Fine, ok.”<br/>
<br/>
“Like I said, it wasn’t special. After that we never mentioned it, ever. He kept looking at me, like I owed him something, but I don’t know what he wanted from me. Also it’s not like he made me feel something in particular, I was just horny.” Louis notices Harry’s nervous stare. “Nothing compared to you, of course.”<br/>
<br/>
“So you’ve never had sex with…?”<br/>
<br/>
“Never felt like it, not like I had too many opportunities, though. Girls are something else, but again, nothing quite special. I’ve never felt – this. With anybody.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry blushes. “What’s <em>this</em>? What do you feel?”<br/>
<br/>
And without thinking, he has the words on the tip of his tongue.<br/>
<em>Don’t fuck it up. Don’t fuck it up.<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Loads of things.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>What a fucking wanker.<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Not giving me details, again. Alright. I take it.”<br/>
<br/>
“What do <em>you</em> feel, Harry?”<br/>
<br/>
He scrunches his nose, “loads of things too.”<br/>
<br/>
“I like ‘loads of things’”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, it’s precise.” Harry leans in to kiss him, more butterflies in his tummy. “I need to take a shower.”<br/>
<br/>
“Another one?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, I still feel sweaty.”<br/>
<br/>
“Can I go with you?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’d love to,” he nods.<br/>
<br/>
A phone starts to ring.<br/>
Louis picks it up from the nightstand next to him.<br/>
<br/>
“Heeeello?”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Where are you?”<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Sarah?”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Obviously. Why isn’t Harry picking up?”<br/>
<br/>
</em>Harry giggles and shrugs. “His phone is probably dead somewhere.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Oh, alright. Anyways, we’ll be coming over with the boys in an hour or so. We’ll bring some drinks and snacks. Would you mind cleaning up a little?” </em><br/>
<br/>
“Will do. Already on it. In fact, the house is already cleaned up.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Veeery funny. Do you want to drink something in particular?”<br/>
<br/>
</em>Louis looks at Harry. “Tell her to bring some orange juice.”<br/>
<br/>
“H wants orange juice.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Alcohol, Lou. I meant alcohol.”<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Oh, oh. Tell her to bring that beer I told her about yesterday. That one with the groovy logo.”<br/>
<br/>
“Did you hear him?”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“I did. I’ll buy it, but if it’s bad it’s not my responsibility. Dom says hi!”<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Tell him we say hi. Is he coming with his boyfriend?”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Yeah, Tony is with us right now. You’ll love him. We told him about you and he’s already planning on adopting you both.”<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Fair enough. Harry’s the one with the good parents so tell him to adopt me instead.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Tony. Hear this out: Louis actually wants you to adopt him.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, nice. A nice way to introduce ourselves. Love that. Tell him I do fancy tea in the morning so that’s the only thing I ask for in exchange for him to stay. Sounds good?”<br/>
<br/>
</em>Louis chuckles, Harry leans his head on his chest. “Sound lovely, actually. I might consider it.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Alright, loves. See ya’ in an hour. Please dress yourselves.”<br/>
<br/>
</em>He hangs the phone and looks at Harry, who’s looking at him.<br/>
<br/>
“So? Shower?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry gives him a little kiss on his chest. “Yeah, sounds amazing.”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
The hot water feels revitalizing at its best.<br/>
He washes Harry’s hair as he gives him more wet kisses on his face. Well, that until he gets some shampoo in his eyes so he actually has to get under water. The bathroom echoes with their laughs, especially when Harry plays with Louis’ hair, arranging it in funny shapes.<br/>
For a moment they just stay there, hugging each other as warm water falls upon them. Louis kisses his neck, takes his time to melt with him for a minute.<br/>
<br/>
The rest of the night goes beautifully well.<br/>
Harry finishes cooking his pasta and the butternut squash soup. He complains at first because now food is cold, but Louis teases him out of it. He cleans the place, and again it feels as if they’re on their own house, waiting for guests to come over.<br/>
Since Harry let him pick an album again, Louis obviously picked one of his all time favorites: “The Stone Roses” by none other than The Stone Roses.<br/>
When the second song plays, “She Bangs the Drums”, he looks across the room for Harry’s reaction.<br/>
He remembers.<br/>
<br/>
He starts lip-synching, grinning as he watches Louis get closer. Dancing, actually dancing. Louis holds his hand and spins him around, to then start dancing foolishly around the kitchen.<br/>
Louis kisses him again, and every kiss feels like spring, like his favorite music.<br/>
<br/>
They hear the door open up, just when the next song starts playing.<br/>
<br/>
“Oiiii, I love this one.” Dom gets in, loudly as he hugs them both. For some reason it feels like they’ve known them for years. “Who picked it? No, wait. Tony, this is Louis and Harry.”<br/>
<br/>
Tony has brown hair and glasses, just like Louis imagined him in his head. He reaches to shake his hand but Tony just kisses them on their cheeks. “Hello, boys. Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about-“<br/>
<br/>
“Shush, listen. Look at them. Who do you think picked this album? Let’s see if you got it right.”<br/>
<br/>
“Mmmh, interesting question,” Tony squints. “Who’s who?”<br/>
<br/>
“I am Louis, this is Harry,” Louis points out.<br/>
<br/>
Tony looks at their clothes, which makes Louis feels absurdly observed. He only likes it when Harry does it.<br/>
<br/>
“You, you seem the Oasis type.”<br/>
<br/>
“What give me away?” Louis grins.<br/>
<br/>
“Me, I gave you away.” Mitch throws himself into the sofa. “I told them about you being stuck in 95’”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s not true,” Louis squints. “My taste is versatile.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s actually more versatile than Harry’s. Harry will make you listen to a band’s entire discography only to prove he likes them.” Sarah giggles.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey,” Harry serves his soup. “You’re being unfair.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s alright, love.” Dom sits next to Tony at the dining table. “What do you have there?”<br/>
<br/>
“Squash soup. Just made it.” Harry tilts his head, smiling proudly.<br/>
<br/>
“Just? You guys haven’t eaten yet?”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Shit.<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Eh – well, I mean…” Harry tries to respond, confused. There’s no way to escape it, sadly.<br/>
<br/>
“No, we haven’t.”<br/>
<br/>
She hides a smile and nods, looking at Mitch. “Oooh, alright.”<br/>
<br/>
“I told you, didn’t I?” Dom smirks and raises an eyebrow, looking at Sarah. “Thank god you called before.”<br/>
<br/>
“You didn’t do it in the sofa, right?”<br/>
<br/>
Louis feels himself blushing. <em>Thank you, Sarah.<br/>
<br/>
</em>“I assure you we didn’t do it in the sofa. We’re civilized people, we don’t have sex in other people’s sofas. Thank you very much.” Harry eats his soup, unbothered, and they all look at him. <em>Where did all this confidence come from? Jesus fucking Christ. </em><br/>
<br/>
“Harry! We didn’t raise you like that!” Sarah responds between giggles.<br/>
<br/>
There’s something even more attractive on a confident Harry.<br/>
Louis is very into it.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
Tony turns out to be a nice lad. Very laid back, funny and particularly feminine. He has this particular way to hold his cigarette, which makes him look as if he’s smoking the most expensive one in England. They talk about Outrage, their opinions on this year’s parade, how they feel that depoliticizing it could take seriousness from it. How disappointed they are after everything that happened that year with the Admiral Duncan’s situation.<br/>
And it’s amazing, because Louis actually learns a lot from them.<br/>
Dom and Tony are extremely wise, like an old 70-year-olds that have lived through almost everything, yet they’re still as young as ever.<br/>
He notices how they play with each other’s fingers while they talk, just like Harry plays with his hands too. Somehow, it makes him like them even more.<br/>
<br/>
Louis is having fun.<br/>
He loves Harry’s friends, so much he won’t be able to stop himself from comparing them to his own “friends”. When they’re at Jane’s house, they talk about shit nobody really cares about. Here, they talk about arts and politics. They tell funny stories and shit on Tony Blair and the Queen.<br/>
And he has Harry’s laugh, just to make everything better.<br/>
They want to go to dance since it’s still Pride and Louis has no clue <em>how </em> they still have energies to keep up doing stuff, even more to go out again.<br/>
<br/>
“What do you think?” Harry leans on his shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
“What do <em>you </em>think, sweet cheeks?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry scrunches his nose. “I wouldn’t mind going out for a bit. I mean, you don’t get to be every day in London, on a Pride night, especially in the last year of the decade, innit?”<br/>
<br/>
“You’re right, yeah. We’ll join too.”<br/>
<br/>
“Brilliant!” Sarah shouts as she finishes her pasta. “Oh, wait. Who’s driving? Because we’re six.”<br/>
<br/>
“One can sit on the other’s lap, right?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, definitely,” Tony nods.<br/>
<br/>
Mitch and Sarah clean up the dishes from dinner, Harry goes to brush his teeth and Louis looks by the balcony, while he waits.<br/>
<br/>
“Hi, Lou.” Dom stands next to him, makes him company. “How you feelin’?”<br/>
<br/>
“Fantastic. I feel… I don’t know. Like a human being, I guess.” Louis nods and then shakes his head. “Sorry, I’m talking shit.”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t be sorry, I genuinely asked how you’re feeling.” Dom smiles. “I’m glad you’re alright.”<br/>
<br/>
“How are you?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m happy. Haven’t felt like this in proper weeks. I always miss Sarah and Mitch and now that I met you both, I feel thankful. It’s like… I was waiting to meet up with two cool people and I ended meeting four. I’m glad.”<br/>
<br/>
“Really?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, you both remind me when me and Tony started dating. We were the literal image of two butterflies fluttering around each other. We were too obvious.” He laughs.<br/>
<br/>
Louis nods quietly.<br/>
<br/>
“Dom, can I ask you something?”<br/>
<br/>
“Definitely, I love questions.”<br/>
<br/>
“When did you know… well, you know.”<br/>
<br/>
“No, I don’t. Be clear, come on. Don’t be afraid.”<br/>
<br/>
“You know what I’m talking about.”<br/>
<br/>
“I do, but I want you to say it.”<br/>
<br/>
“Alright,” he sighs, “When did you know you were in love with Tony?”<br/>
<br/>
Dom snorts, and shakes his head. “You want me to be honest?”<br/>
<br/>
“Sure.”<br/>
<br/>
“I knew the moment I started asking people when they knew about it themselves.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis rolls his eyes. “Fine, I get it.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m serious. I was so insecure about my own feelings that I had to ask other people about their experiences so I could figure out if I was actually feeling what I was feeling.” He lights up a cigarette. “It’s complicated, since everybody feels different. People feel in their own unique way, and I think it’s beautiful. What I mean is, well, you will know. It’ll come to you like lightning. You’ll be staring at him and then you’ll feel it, deep in your heart.”<br/>
<br/>
“How was it for you?”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s actually funny, so bloody random. We were at the supermarket buying cans of soup, and he was confused because he wanted this specific brand, and it wasn’t there. He literally walked the aisle for… about 10 minutes. He searched and searched until he found the one he wanted, hidden behind some peas. It was hilarious, and his face of pure joy and satisfaction was <em>it</em> for me. Then I knew - I wanted to see that face for the rest of my life.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s beautiful.”<br/>
<br/>
“He is. He’s the kindest person I’ve ever met.”<br/>
<br/>
“Does it scare you?”<br/>
<br/>
“Sometimes, yeah. Especially when we fight about dumb things, but you learn to love everything that comes with it, eventually. The highs and the lows. Love's not only about the happy bits, but also the tough ones. Those moments when you feel you could hate them, you really don’t. And being honest, I think life’s too short to be scared of what you feel. Just let it happen, and I promise life will feel easier, better.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis hears somebody walking towards them.<br/>
<br/>
“We’re almost ready to go!” Tony hugs Dom from behind, looking at Louis. “What were you talking about?”<br/>
<br/>
“I told him about that time you looked for Campbell’s at Tesco.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes! That was so funny. Those cans will be the death of me if they ever stop making them. They’re the best out there.”<br/>
<br/>
“They are, yeah.” Louis nods. “Thank you, Dom.”<br/>
<br/>
“Anytime. And remember, you’ll know. Let it come to you, don’t rush it, don’t avoid it.”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
And he’s right.<br/>
<br/>
When you know, you know.<br/>
<br/>
And in a way, Louis already knew.<br/>
<br/>
He confirmed it when they were in the car, Harry sitting on his lap as he rolled down the window to feel the air in his face. He also does that a lot. The lights reflecting on his smiley, beautiful face and the air messing up with his hair.<br/>
<br/>
Harry looked like a little bird.<br/>
<br/>
And Louis was in love.<br/>
Louis was so in love.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. "Lorelei"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>"our secret moments in your crowded room,</i>
  <br/>
  <i>they've got no idea about me and you"</i>
</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm back ! This one took me quite a few weeks since I was going through some really hard stuff. Now I'm on vacation, so hopefully I'll be able to work more on this fic.<br/>Again, thanks to my lovely friend and (now official) beta, Mer, for helping with the grammar and everything. I love uuuu. </p><p>Kudos and comments are very appreciated &lt;3<br/>Hope u like this one !!</p><p>P.S the song from the title of this chapter is the same song they hear in the tunnel scene, if u wanna <a href="https://youtu.be/cu2COw-4g8Q">hear</a> it !</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Wait, wait. Wait, wait, wait.”<br/>
<br/>
“What?”<br/>
<br/>
“Shit.”<br/>
<br/>
“What’s wrong?”<br/>
<br/>
Louis lies his face on Harry’s chest. “I’m so stupid.”<br/>
<br/>
“What happened?” Harry responds, panting.<br/>
<br/>
“I – fuck’s sake.”<br/>
<br/>
“Speak.”<br/>
<br/>
“I left the condoms in my room.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry snorts, trying to meet Louis’ eyes. “And you realized it…”<br/>
<br/>
“Now. Just now,” he closes his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“Now that you have me – like this.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry feels his own face burning from heat, his hands still on Louis’ back. Louis’ body between his legs. The Cure’s album, “Disintegration”, playing in the background from his old radio. It’s Louis’ cassette this time, since he complains all the time that Harry never really lets him pick the albums.<br/>
<br/>
Well, not that they’re really listening anyway, but it helps to ease the noise. <br/>
<br/>
“Alright, yeah. Totally inconvenient.”<br/>
<br/>
“I mean – I could dress and get them,” Louis looks at him, blue eyes clear as the sky.<br/>
<br/>
“Isn’t your dad at home?”<br/>
<br/>
“Maybe?”<br/>
<br/>
He thinks about it, but something about having Louis half undressed on top of him after not seeing him all weekend –Harry went to Cheshire for a few days to visit his grandad, who was a bit sick. It was just the flu, thank god— makes him not want to wait for it to happen again, even if it is in ten minutes. He tightens the space between them using his arms and legs, which catches Louis off guard.<br/>
<br/>
“It can wait, then.”<br/>
<br/>
“But I’ll come back fast,” he whispers as Harry convinces him to stay. He knows how weak he gets whenever he starts kissing his neck, or when he runs his nails through his back, or when he pushes his hips against his, delicately. Harry moves his hands to the waistband of Louis’ boxers, trying unsuccessfully to pull them down.<br/>
<br/>
“What’s your plan, Haz? Because I can’t make condoms appear magically out of your nightstand.”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t really mind using them.” Harry stubbornly keeps trying, and Louis faces him. His eyes wide open.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re not serious.”<br/>
<br/>
“Lou, I haven’t had sex with anybody but you,” Harry stops for a minute there, deadpan. “I’m clean.”<br/>
<br/>
“But I haven’t got tested yet.”<br/>
<br/>
“So? I trust you,” he shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s not about trust, love.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry feels frustration deep in his gut, but he’s right. “Still don’t want you to go.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis sighs, more resigned than frustrated, and giggles. Well, that until Harry insists on pulling his boxers down. “What are you doing?”<br/>
<br/>
“Do you mind being naked now? Only if it’s just for the sake of it?”<br/>
<br/>
He squints. “You’re teasing.”<br/>
<br/>
“I just like to see you. Also, I haven’t properly looked at you since last Wednesday,” Harry plays innocent. It usually works.<br/>
<br/>
“Harry.” It’s not working.<br/>
<br/>
“Just for a while, I promise.”<br/>
<br/>
There’s something delightful on having Louis naked so close to him. He’s gotten used to it, especially at night before going to sleep. After London, this horny version of himself completely took over and now he seems to never get enough of Louis. And his smell. And his hands. And his body. And his-<br/>
<br/>
Three knocks on his door.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Bloody hell.<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Harry? Niall’s calling.”<br/>
<br/>
He clears his throat. “Did he tell you why?”<br/>
<br/>
“Eeeh, no? Come out and talk to him maybe?”<br/>
<br/>
Louis smirks, holding a laugh. “Ok, wait.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis pulls up his halfway down boxers and quickly puts on a shirt from the floor. Harry’s shirt. Harry puts on Louis’ shirt, sticks his head out through the door and receives the phone from a deadpanned Gemma.<br/>
<br/>
“Thank you.”<br/>
<br/>
She nods and leaves, and Harry shuts the door, walking only in his briefs to sit next to Louis in the bed.<br/>
<br/>
“Yep?”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Are you home?” </em><br/>
<br/>
“I am. Are you alright?”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“I’m actually out your door, but I’m too sad to knock.”<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Why? What happened?”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“I miss Jeff Buckley.”</em><br/>
<br/>
Harry giggles, frowning. “Alright, seriously, what happened?”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Do I need a reason to come and visit? After all this time?”</em><br/>
<br/>
Well, fuck.<em><br/>
<br/>
</em>“I’m a bit busy, actually,” he tries to play it cool, as he feels Louis’ cheeky stare and a hand on his thigh, making circles with his fingertips.<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Doing what? Wanking? Listening to more depressive shit? Come on, mate. I’m bored. It’s summer! Let’s watch a movie or summat.”<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Eh…” Louis looks at him, confused, as he keeps dragging his nails through Harry’s skin, not digging but only running them to give him shivers. Takes a little hiss from Harry, so he smiles in satisfaction. “Niall, I’m sorry, I’m too busy right now.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Are you rejecting me when I’m already out your door? Seriously?”</em><br/>
<br/>
“But you didn’t –“<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Alright, I see how it is.” </em><br/>
<br/>
He inhales, “ok, for fuck’s sake. Give me a minute to dress up.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry hangs up out of panic. Shit. Where is Louis supposed to hide? What if he hides in the bathroom and Niall wants to use it? What if-<br/>
<br/>
“Harry? What’s wrong?”<br/>
<br/>
“Niall’s here.”<br/>
<br/>
“Shit.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know.”<br/>
<br/>
“What do we do? I’m not going out the window.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s not necessary, Rapunzel. Just stay here and I’ll try to talk to him outside. Please don’t make any noise.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis smirks. “So do I need to wear clothes, just in case?”<br/>
<br/>
“You’re killing me,” Harry grins. “Yes but consider that I’ll be back and I’ll take care of those later.”<br/>
<br/>
“Your hatred towards my clothes lately is kind of concerning.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry squints his eyes as he puts on some pajama bottoms. It’s not something he would wear at 6 pm, but again, he doesn’t care that much. After all, Niall’s the one who showed up without a heads up.<br/>
<br/>
It’s something he would do anyway.<br/>
<br/>
He’s at the door and now, it’s only adrenaline pounding in his body.<br/>
Niall looks too excited for some reason.<br/>
<br/>
“Hello, mate.”<br/>
<br/>
“What’s up?”<br/>
<br/>
He frowns, “can I come in?”<br/>
<br/>
“Sure, yeah.”<br/>
<br/>
He walks in as he takes off his shoes, “I wasn’t lying when I told you I actually feel a bit sad.”<br/>
<br/>
Niall makes his way,<br/>
Straight to Harry’s room.<br/>
<br/>
“Let’s talk here,” Harry rushes to hold his arm as Niall tilts his head. “Please, my room is a mess.”<br/>
<br/>
“As if I don’t know your definition of messy, Harry. Your bed undone doesn’t mean your room is actually a mess.”<br/>
<br/>
“But still, let’s sit on the sofa, maybe have a cuppa?”<br/>
<br/>
“Ok, sounds good.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry lets out a sigh of relief. Niall goes and throws himself straight into the sofa, not leaving him space. It’s funny.<br/>
<br/>
<em>This will take a while.<br/>
I hope Louis is patient.<br/>
<br/>
</em>“I just came to visit before going to Mullingar for a few days. I thought maybe we could have a little chat, you know? I feel like we don’t talk that much anymore.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry takes two cups out of the cabinet. “Because someone’s busy with a girlfriend, perhaps?”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s not Jane’s fault,” Niall frowns, “it’s mine. And yours a little bit.”<br/>
<br/>
“Mine?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah,” he sits. “You hang out with other kind of cool people.”<br/>
<br/>
“But you’re cool too, what are you talking about?”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t know, H. I feel we both have changed, which is not a bad thing. It’s just – I wanna know where we are. You and me.”<br/>
<br/>
“As in if we’re still friends?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah.” He whispers, and it only takes a slight change of tone for Harry to realize Niall’s actually opening up. Blunt expression, totally transparent.<br/>
<br/>
Vulnerable, even.<br/>
<br/>
He’s actually concerned for their friendship.<br/>
<br/>
And it kind of sucks because their friendship is precisely something Harry has always taken for granted. He’s always been there, despite the years.<br/>
<br/>
“Obviously we are still friends, Niall. I never thought you’d be the kind who needed reassurance.”<br/>
<br/>
He giggles, “I’m not. Well, maybe. I thought you didn’t need me anymore.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry gasps, “Hey,” makes his way to the sofa and sits next to him, “I’ll always need you. You’re my friend. My brother. I thought you needed your space to know other… people, you know? To experiment a little. It doesn’t mean we’re not friends, silly.”<br/>
<br/>
He leans his head on Niall’s shoulder, so Niall leans too.<br/>
<br/>
“I know. Doesn’t make me miss you any less.”<br/>
<br/>
“You really miss me?”<br/>
<br/>
“Of course! You think it’s easy for me to hear Golden Girls’ references without thinking about you? You jinxed television for me, Harry. I can’t even watch MTV with my-“ He signs quote marks with his fingers, “friends without remembering your two-hour rant ‘bout your theory of Courtney Love killing Kurt Cobain.”<br/>
<br/>
“I mean, she might have-“<br/>
<br/>
“I know. I told Jane about it and it makes so much sense.” Niall goes back to lie down, kicking Harry off the sofa.<br/>
<br/>
“Does Jane still like me?”<br/>
<br/>
“I think so, yeah. She’s always like “<em>oh, look what Harry’s wearing”, “there’s a reason his last name is Styles” </em>and shit,” Niall chuckles. “So I guess she does.”<br/>
<br/>
“She really talks about my clothes?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yep, especially during lunch. You should’ve seen Louis’ face every time she did it. He couldn’t stand it.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Oh, Louis.<br/>
<br/>
</em>“That’s –“<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah,” He nods, presses his lips as if he’s about to say something, then shakes his head. “Now, how about that tea so we can chat for a bit?”<br/>
<br/>
Something that amazes him from Niall is how they’ve had the same friendship dynamic since they’re kids. They don’t really need to talk about their problems more than they need to. They just need each other’s company. Maybe a cuppa. That’s enough for them, and it’s so comfortable for Harry.<br/>
Because sometimes he really gets tired of talking, of the effort of talking.<br/>
<br/>
And a few minutes of a drama-free conversation is good for everyone; well, except for the fact that Chris (they call him Marky Mark, since Harry keeps forgetting his name) keeps trying to “win Jane back,” which for someone like Niall is enough drama for an entire year. He’s unbothered, but worried about Jane. Worried that she might end up leaving him.<br/>
Niall tells him that it’s natural to worry about those things, since the answer lies on what action can confirm it or deny it. Before Harry could ask him, he explained:<br/>
<br/>
“That day, when I saw that he was still texting her, I got so anxious I wanted to leave her house. You know what she did later? She gave me a letter. She writes me letters, Harry. I never thought someone would actually spend time on those things, less for me. That was enough. I stopped worrying. Like, I know she can’t really control other people’s feelings, but she can be clear about hers, and that’s enough for me. That’s why I love her so much, you know? She’s special.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry likes to hear other people’s experiences so he can compare them to his own. Even if they’re basically the same age, he can still learn from him.<br/>
<br/>
There’s a reason Niall’s his best friend.<br/>
<br/>
30 minutes later, he decides that it’s time to go back home.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m glad we’re ok.” Niall giggles and gives him a quick hug. Then, looks to Harry’s shirt. “That’s funny.”<br/>
<br/>
“What?”<br/>
<br/>
“Louis has the same shirt.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Calm down, Harry, calm the fuck down.<br/>
</em><br/>
“We probably bought it in the same place.”<br/>
<br/>
He squints his eyes for a second, almost not buying it. “Do we have that store here? I thought he bought it in Doncaster.” Harry wants to respond but only manages to stutter, which makes it way worse. “Kidding. Nice shirt, though. I’ll probably buy it myself.” Niall pats him in the shoulder, “see you around, Haz.”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
Of course, the minute he shuts the door he runs to his room.<br/>
Louis is reading one of his books.<br/>
Under covers.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey, I’m so so sorry.”<br/>
<br/>
“So Chris, huh?” Louis keeps looking at his book, probably not to make eye contact with Harry.<br/>
<br/>
“We call him Marky Mark now.”<br/>
<br/>
It takes a chuckle out of him. “What a jerk.”<br/>
<br/>
“He’s the kind that won’t take no for an answer, apparently.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis closes the book, leaving it back on the nightstand. “I really dislike Chris, though. Not because of Jane but because he’s a wanker. A total wanker.”<br/>
<br/>
“He looks like it,” Harry shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
“How did it go?”<br/>
<br/>
“Good, actually. We talked a bit about where we’re standing in our friendship and now we’re cool.”<br/>
<br/>
“My shirt looks good on you,” Louis bats his lashes a tiny bit.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, that. Niall noticed it.”<br/>
<br/>
“The shirt?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, I told him we probably bought the same shirt. Did you tell Niall where you bought it?”<br/>
<br/>
“I think, yeah,” Louis nods. He gasps when he realizes. “Shit, I told him I bought it in-“<br/>
<br/>
“Doncaster.”<br/>
<br/>
“He remembered?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yep.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well, shit.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry takes off his pajama pants, “let’s just hope he doesn’t care too much about it.”<br/>
<br/>
“We need to do a better job, then. We can’t rely on Niall’s bad short-term memory forever.”<br/>
<br/>
“You’re right,” he gets to the bed and sits on Louis’ lap, legs on each side. “I don’t wanna think about it too much right now.”<br/>
<br/>
“No?” Louis places his hands on Harry’s hips. “I mean, I don’t either.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, I think we should do other stuff.”<br/>
<br/>
“I need to go home first.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry exhales. “Now?”<br/>
<br/>
“Now, but I’ll be back.”<br/>
<br/>
“I mean I can always just blow you and call it a day?”<br/>
<br/>
Louis’ cheeks visibly flushing, he smirks. “I didn’t wait almost a week only for a blowjob. Besides, I’ll have to go home anyway, I need to pick up something.”<br/>
<br/>
“What?”<br/>
<br/>
“My toothbrush?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry frowns. “You don’t have one here?”<br/>
<br/>
“No, I don’t,” Louis tilts his head. “Why?”<br/>
<br/>
“I think you should have a toothbrush here. And more clothes. Maybe your own cup since Gemma’s always complaining I’m using hers.”<br/>
<br/>
“More clothes that you’ll steal?”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s not necessarily stealing since I can’t use them outside.”<br/>
<br/>
“Are you gonna steal my cup too?”<br/>
<br/>
“Only when you’re not here and I miss you too much.”<br/>
<br/>
A thought goes through Louis’ mind. Harry notices because of how his smile vanishes for an instant, to be replaced with a soft, “thank you.”<br/>
<br/>
“What for?”<br/>
<br/>
“It feels nice to have somewhere nice to stay, even for a bit.”<br/>
<br/>
“This is your home now, too. Mum and Gemma agree. Actually, they ask for you when you’re not here.”<br/>
<br/>
“They do?”<br/>
<br/>
“They do, yeah.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis sits in the bed, Harry’s still on top. “What if we dress up, go to Mrs. Bailey’s, buy what we need to buy, come back here and stay in this room ‘til tomorrow?”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t think mum would be too pleased if we don’t have tea with her later.”<br/>
<br/>
“Then we have tea with her, we come back and stay here. You know, the night’s long…”<br/>
<br/>
Somehow, it feels hard to breathe.<br/>
Louis is so close to his face that Harry can feel how he’s literally taking his breath away.<br/>
How his heart seems to hammer against his chest.<br/>
And pounds even faster every time he smiles.<br/>
<br/>
“Seems like a date.”<br/>
<br/>
“A date it is.”<br/>
<br/>
And it was, a wonderful date on a summer night.<br/>
<br/>
With lots of cuddles,<br/>
a lovely chat over tea with Anne and Gemma.<br/>
<br/>
And a new blue toothbrush next to Harry’s.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
° ° °<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
The sun from the early morning kisses the tip of Louis’ nose.<br/>
<br/>
He’s unbothered.<br/>
<br/>
Harry feels his own eyes heavy from just waking up. He knows his hair is a mess. Lifts his head up a tad to check the clock. 6:37.<br/>
<br/>
Louis is dead-asleep.<br/>
<br/>
Harry’s room has turned into a shelter over August.<br/>
<br/>
Every week there’s a new poster, a new polaroid from him or Louis or them together or from something interesting he found on the ground, or a funny-shaped fruit, or somebody’s hands in the middle of some action sticked to the wall. Some flowers or leaves with vivid colors Louis like to leave drying out, to later put them in the middle of some heavy book.<br/>
<br/>
Cassettes, from Jesus and The Mary Chain to Pixies, even an old demo from Nirvana. Harry’s grown to like them, thanks to Louis and his endless conversations about his hidden poetry and unreleased songs. He’s just as much as a nerd like him, but at least he plays it cool. <br/>
Two cups of tea that alternate between the kitchen and Harry’s room, a silly drawing of Louis’ dream house and, of course, clothes thrown carelessly everywhere. From Louis’ shoes to Harry’s shirts.<br/>
And, of course, a small rainbow flag. Too small to cover himself with it, but enough to bring color into his desk.<br/>
<br/>
His room feels alive now.<br/>
<br/>
Like their own planet, far from the rest of the population.<br/>
<br/>
Like home.<br/>
<br/>
Harry feels his own body laying close to Louis’, as he looks at his calm expression. The shadow under his eyelashes. The constellation-shaped freckles on his cheek. His slightly furrowed brows.<br/>
<br/>
<em>He looks like he’s dreaming.<br/>
<br/>
</em>He leans in, without moving him too much, and kisses him on the corner of his mouth. Then another one. He kisses his cheekbone and can’t help but to move him in order to reach the rest of his face. With his eyes closed still, he smiles.<br/>
<br/>
“Hello, sleepyhead.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry presses a little kiss on his lips, not moving apart from them when he finishes. He feels him breathing.<br/>
<br/>
“You are the sleepyhead now. It’s late.”<br/>
<br/>
Never hesitating for another kiss, Louis smiles between kisses as he tries to warn him he just woke up. Harry doesn’t care. He hears him giggling from the series of small kisses all over his face.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m going to miss this face,” Harry nuzzles his cheek with his nose. <br/>
<br/>
“Don’t be dramatic, I’m staying tonight.”<br/>
<br/>
“Tonight,” Harry sighs, rolls to his back and puts the back of his hand on his forehead. “How am I going to survive without kisses from Louis Tomlinson by nooooon?”<br/>
<br/>
He takes his wrist gently, moving it and peeking over his face. “We can always go to the bathroom.”<br/>
<br/>
“Sure, if someone catches us, who cares, right?”<br/>
<br/>
“No one cares,” Louis shrugs and  leans for another kiss mid-sentence, still giggling. Harry knows he didn’t say anything particularly funny.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you working today?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yup, from 4 ‘til 8. Are you picking me up?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry nods, “I’ll go to Sarah’s house today. They’ll let us know if we got the gig at the Astoria.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis quirks a brow, “that’s fantastic, H!”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t get too excited, we don’t know if we’re in yet.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh but you are, I know.”<br/>
<br/>
“How do you know?”<br/>
<br/>
“Because I know this talented boy who’s auditioning and I just know he kicked everyone’s arses there.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry squints as Louis gives him another kiss, this time for a bit longer.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Oh, it’s going to be hard to leave the bed.<br/>
<br/>
</em>Because the minute Louis changes clothes to sneak to his house, Harry knows it’ll be a long last year of school.<br/>
<br/>
So he promised himself:<br/>
<br/>
<em>The minute school’s over, I’ll wake up to Louis’ face every day if necessary.<br/>
<br/>
</em>He is <em>that</em> lost.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
A lot has happened since London.<br/>
<br/>
Harry talked to Des.<br/>
<br/>
Even if him leaving was part better part painful, it did him good. He seems calmer, cheerful. A completely different person.<br/>
The dad Harry remembered from his childhood, the dad that made him feel happy and loved.<br/>
He was genuinely interested about Harry. They talked about school, the band. Louis stayed with him, like he promised, also listening. Des asked some occasional questions until the “girlfriend” question came.<br/>
So Harry was honest.<br/>
When he told him about Louis, not going too much into details, his face was difficult to read. He was nodding subtly, a raised brow, listening as he looked at Louis.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you happy?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry was glowing.<br/>
<br/>
“I am,” he hid a smile, “I definitely am.”<br/>
<br/>
“Then it’s alright for me, Harry. It’s not something I should have an opinion on. You like who you like. It’s your life.”<br/>
<br/>
And the funny thing is, Louis doesn’t believe he’s good talking to parents.<br/>
But he and Des actually got along super well.<br/>
They talked about Doncaster –since at some point Des went there— football and music. They have a similar music taste.<br/>
<br/>
It was a pleasant evening.</p><p>And Harry felt like a weight had been lifted off his back.<br/>
<br/>
Also, Sarah and Mitch graduated.<br/>
It was kind of an emotional day, and not necessarily because they finished school.<br/>
They got drunk afterwards and cried –including Mitch—because they wouldn’t be seeing each other as often.<br/>
The funny thing is that, in fact, they see each other pretty much every day.<br/>
Sarah was smart enough to get them a deal with Berlin’s owner, so they can play there twice a month. It’s not a lot of money but it’ll help them to save enough to produce their own EP.<br/>
In a year, if everything goes alright.<br/>
Also, free drinks.<br/>
Niall didn’t complain at all.<br/>
<br/>
He went to the Leeds festival.<br/>
Even if the original plan was to go only with Louis, they had company. Mitch, Sarah, Tony and Dom also wanted to go, so they went as a group –and it made Anne feel better because she was worried about <em>leaving two young boys on their own at a wild music festival</em>—and it was something Harry will also treasure for the rest of his life.<br/>
<br/>
It's only possible to describe it in words: balloons, loads of people from all over the world, musicmusicmusic everywhere, mud, grass stains, smoke, tents, tea, shouts, loads of pot.<br/>
<br/>
too. many. tangerines.<br/>
<br/>
And sex.<br/>
<br/>
Loads of it.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>In Harry’s words, it’s been the summer of his life. He hates to feel it is kind of over.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
“Harry, come on. Hurry up and eat your cereal!”<br/>
<br/>
He feels two hands on his shoulders. “Oh god, you’re so whipped. Did you take it?”<br/>
<br/>
“Shush,” Harry keeps looking at the little polaroid in his hands.<br/>
<br/>
“If you don’t finish now I won’t be able to drive you in time,” Anne says with a reproachful tone.<br/>
<br/>
She’s walking around the house, getting stuff in her lavish Prada handbag – a lovely gift from Robin, who’s probably even more whipped than Harry because he can’t understand why someone would spend so much money on a bag, and for someone else— as she’s probably running late. All because of Harry.<br/>
<br/>
He doesn’t want to go to school.<br/>
<em>Not in this uniform, at least.<br/>
</em><br/>
It makes him feel as if he’s in jail.<br/>
<br/>
And he can’t shake off the feeling from the Leeds yet.<br/>
<br/>
He’s been stuck with a Lee Hazlewood album –recommended by Tony, who’s a sucker for the sixties just like Harry—so he plays it in the car on his way to school.<br/>
At the same time, he looks at Anne. Who likes to drive with a shadow of a smile in her face, enjoying Lee’s silky voice during “Your Sweet Love”. She’s immersed in the song. She’s lost looking right into the street, and Harry wonders if they look alike, even a tiny bit. If he looks as good as she does while driving. He’s still learning, but he wishes he had that natural glow she has. That easiness on life. That love for the world.<br/>
<br/>
He kind of does, in a way where everything feels special, unique.<br/>
<br/>
Where he feels himself daydreaming about the future, where he’ll be the one driving maybe with a kid looking at him wondering the same thing. Maybe both of them enjoying Lee Hazlewood’s music like he’s enjoying it with his mum.<br/>
It's a beautiful way to start the day.<br/>
<br/>
“Robin’s coming over tonight, if Louis wants to have dinner with us again,” she grins.<br/>
<br/>
“I’ll ask him if he’s free. Thank you.” Harry kisses her on her cheek, and she stops him for a second.<br/>
<br/>
“I – well, I need to talk to you about something. It’s about Louis, actually.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s something wrong?”<br/>
<br/>
“No, it’s just… I feel – I’ve been talking to his mum lately. Is he alright?”<br/>
<br/>
The question quickly alarms him. “I mean… I know he hates going home since things with his dad are not good. At all.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know,” she frowns, “but I was actually surprised when she told me she didn’t know you and Louis were a thing.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Oh, that.<br/>
<br/>
</em>“You told her?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sorry, love. You should’ve told me before I screwed it up telling her how much time he spends with you. She said <em>oh, but he usually goes to Eleanor’s quite often, how’s that possible?</em> and I told her that he’s been at our house practically all summer. She was very surprised too.”<br/>
<br/>
Cold sweat in his hands and forehead. <em>Louis is going to kill me.<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Oh, mum –“<br/>
<br/>
“Please, don’t worry. I told her about how lovely Louis is with you and how happy it makes me that he’s your… whatever he is.”<br/>
<br/>
“What did she say?”<br/>
<br/>
“I think something that happens with us mums is that we have a sixth sense you often choose to  ignore. Even if it surprised her it just confirmed something she was thinking about for a while. In her words, her son was with someone completely opposite to him, in morals and personality, so it was actually weird for her. When I told her about you, it suddenly made sense.”<br/>
<br/>
“What made sense?” Harry doesn’t recognize his voice. At all.<br/>
<br/>
“That he’s suddenly so optimistic about life.”<br/>
<br/>
“Is she… mad?”<br/>
<br/>
“She’s a bit upset Louis didn’t trust her enough, but at the same time she understands. It’s not like he’s under the safest environment to be open about it.”<br/>
<br/>
He nods, his heart still in his throat, as he tries to swallow. “Is she gonna talk to Louis?”<br/>
<br/>
“She’ll wait for him to tell her himself. I’d be better if you tried to convince him, to tell him nothing’s wrong. She won’t talk to Troy, of course, since she’s aware of how it could danger them all. Just… let him know he doesn’t need to pretend anymore, he’ll be safe regardless.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry doesn’t move. His good-feeling about life gone for an instant, and all he can feel is actually not fear, but relief. In a way, it is better that she knows. She can help them. Properly.<br/>
And Louis can spend more time in his house, which is only a good outcome from it.<br/>
<br/>
“Can you tell her something from me?”<br/>
<br/>
“Of course, love. What is it?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry inhales wisdom and exhales nervousness. A magical thing that happens in your brain when you overcome an anxious thought, a bitter feeling. “Can you tell her… he’s happy? Like, actually happy. And that he could be even happier if he stayed more days.”<br/>
<br/>
She smiles and shakes her head. “I’ll tell her, but don’t get too used to it. He has his own home.”<br/>
<br/>
“But does he?”<br/>
<br/>
Anne sighs, holds Harry’s head and gives him a forehead kiss. “I know you like him, but it’s not your responsibility. Please know that. It’s not your job to fix his problems. If he’s happy staying with us, then I’m happy too. Our little house can be his home too. If we’re helping, that’s just… fantastic. But his mom should take care of him and his sisters as well, that’s part of a mum’s job. That starts clearly by her leaving the person who’s damaging her children and making them not feel safe in their own house. That’s her responsibility. Your only responsibility here is to be a good friend.”<br/>
<br/>
“But we´re not only-“<br/>
<br/>
“No, you’re not, but you’re a friend first. Be a good friend first. That’s the base of any kind of relationship. Maybe you don’t understand this now, but I wish someone would’ve told me this when I started dating your dad,” she looks and feels sincere. Like it’s no longer a mum advice anymore, it’s a human, caring advice. Some advice from someone who’s been in a relationship before for almost 20 years. “Now, off you go. Be your best version out there, alright?”<br/>
<br/>
“Alright,” Harry whispers, barely processing. “Love you, thank you.”<br/>
<br/>
“Love you too.” She smiles as he leaves the car.<br/>
<br/>
Niall meets him at the front.<br/>
<br/>
“Look at you, Mr. Horan,” Harry grins, as Niall opens his arms.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not hating it. You look fantastic, by the way. Are you sunbur-“<br/>
<br/>
The uniform is pretty basic. Grey trousers and a dark blue shirt with the logo of the school. Of course, Harry’s wearing a sweater. “Yeah, blame it on Leeds.”<br/>
<br/>
“How was it?” They walk inside, through the loud hallways.<br/>
<br/>
“Siiiick. So fucking good. I can’t even begin to describe how amazing it was. We saw so many great bands; Stereolab, Elastica, Echo and the Bunnymen, Pavement. I swear even The Chemical Brothers grew on me a tiny bit. They were nice. Also we saw the Red Hots. Flea was crazy, we sang Under the Bridge until we went aphonic. Blur smashed it. I actually teared up when they played Sing. Damon was beautiful. We saw Coldplay live, they were so cool. Lou-“<br/>
<br/>
<em>HARRY FOR FUCK’S SAKE.<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Mitch twisted his ankle because he tripped over mud. It was hilarious.”<br/>
<br/>
Niall chuckles, “I literally can’t picture Mitch falling.”<br/>
<br/>
“Me neither, until that very moment. I’m sorry you couldn’t come.”<br/>
<br/>
“Nah, no worries. You just made me realize I seriously need a part-time job to do those things. I’m glad you had a fun way to finish your summer,” Nialls nods, as he fixes his sight on Harry’s neck. “Oh, you had <em>fun fun</em>.”<br/>
<br/>
“What do you mean?”<br/>
<br/>
“Is that a love bite?”<br/>
<br/>
And it’s funny, because it’s the first day and it’s been now two times since they’ve fucked up being discreet about it.<br/>
This time is Louis’ fault, since he insisted on kissing his neck <em>too many times</em>. In his defence, he was pissed and way too high. And Harry’s got sensitive, pale skin. <em><br/>
<br/>
</em>“Ehhhhhhh – no, just a silly scratch.”<br/>
<br/>
“Silly scratches don’t look like that. Come on, Harry Styles. Spill.”<br/>
<br/>
“I swear it’s nothing.”<br/>
<br/>
“Was it a boy?”<br/>
<br/>
“Niall… I promise. It was nothing.”<br/>
<br/>
Niall shakes his head, “I can’t believe you don’t wanna tell me. You don’t trust me anymore?”<br/>
<br/>
“I do, I swear. It’s not a love bite. There’s nothing to talk about, really.”<br/>
<br/>
He gasps, “did you snog Mitch and you don’t wanna tell me because of Sarah?”<br/>
<br/>
“Fuck’s sake, Niall. I could never.”<br/>
<br/>
“Alright. I won’t be insisting anymore.”<br/>
<br/>
“But don’t get mad at me, mate. It’s not that important.”<br/>
<br/>
“Sure, I believe you. You’ve been acting weird lately, though.”<br/>
<br/>
“What do you mean?”<br/>
<br/>
“I just know there’s something you’re not telling me.”<br/>
<br/>
It’s logical that he suspects. Harry’s been keeping loads of things away from Niall, only motivated by his fear of him telling Jane. He still doesn’t trust Jane.<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t overthink about it.”<br/>
<br/>
“Sure, Mr. Overthinker.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry stops and holds his shoulders, “I need you to trust me on this one, ok?”<br/>
<br/>
Niall sighs, “sure, alright. Whatever.”<br/>
<br/>
Of course he’s bitter.<br/>
Harry’s not being sincere.<br/>
<br/>
And if destiny randomly decided to hate him, he sees Louis walking with Liam from afar.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Don’t panic. Don’t panic. You’re friends. Everything’s alright.<br/>
</em>“Hello, lads.” He pulls the softest, coolest smile ever. As if he’s talking just to his mates.<br/>
<br/>
Not to somebody he kissed all summer.<br/>
<br/>
And this morning.<br/>
<br/>
“How’s summer, Niall? Harry? I actually called you a few times,” Liam frowns at Niall.<br/>
<br/>
“T’was alright. I visited dad back in Mullingar and I lost my phone,” Niall pouts, “but it was ok.”<br/>
<br/>
“Mullingar is in..?”<br/>
<br/>
“Ireland. Come on, Payno. I thought you were so good at geography?”<br/>
<br/>
They keep talking about their holidays as Louis scans Harry with his eyes, showing enough emotion for him to <em>know,</em> just know that if it’d be up to him, he’d probably jump into his arms.<br/>
<br/>
And they saw each other this morning.<br/>
<br/>
“Uniform’s look good in ya’ – Niall.” And a slightly long pause before his name because <em>sure, yeah, be more obvious.<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Thanks mate. I miss me clothes, though.”<br/>
<br/>
“I thought it was going to be worse, but actually it saves me time from trying to think for a new outfit every day.”<br/>
<br/>
“How was your summer, Louis? What did you do?”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Well, actually…<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Not much, really. I went to visit my family in Donny, it was very cool.”<br/>
<br/>
“How’s El?”<br/>
<br/>
“She’s fine. We haven’t seen each other too much since whenever I was here, she was visiting her family and vice versa. It was really funny, we were always missing each other.”<br/>
<br/>
“Awww. Bet you miss her, eh?”<br/>
<br/>
Louis looks at Harry. “Loads. I miss her all the time.”<br/>
<br/>
Before, Harry would’ve thought he meant it.<br/>
Now, he knows he’s talking about him.<br/>
<br/>
<em>I miss her all the time.<br/>
<br/>
</em>Does Louis know it’s mutual? That even during class Harry thinks about his face and hands and shoulders? How much he also misses his resting, serious face when he reads or his cheeky look when Harry changed clothes in front of him?<br/>
<br/>
The thought of him knowing, of that feeling being mutual, gets him through the day.<br/>
<br/>
It calms him down.<br/>
<br/>
Until lunch.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
° ° °<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
“So I was actually pretty squiffy already and this lad, who never shut up the entire night, told me that he heard Lucy was shagging Josh. It woke me up so fast, and I asked him more about it, but he refused to tell me more.”<br/>
<br/>
“Josh and Lucy?”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, god. Poor Lucy,” a girl Harry doesn’t know grimaces, so he assumes it’s a bad thing.<br/>
<br/>
“I know!” Ella shakes her head, eyes in total disbelief. “But anyways, I think Lucy’s with him because she can’t do better.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Is this what Niall and Louis have to listen to every day?<br/>
<br/>
</em>“I think she can do way better, but she’s needy, so,” Jane shrugs, deadpan. “I couldn’t care less about her. I’m still mad at her since she stole my spliff.”<br/>
<br/>
“Are you sure she stole it, though? You leave drugs everywhere as if you were leaving traces for people to find you, Jane.”<br/>
<br/>
“She definitely stole it,” she nods. “By the way, where are the boys?”<br/>
<br/>
“Should I call them?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, they’re super late.”<br/>
<br/>
It’s not necessary, since they’re already on their way.<br/>
And Louis’ trousers are a little big on the bottom, but he looks lovely. The color looks good on him. He’s talking to Liam, enthusiastically.<br/>
<br/>
“Hello, ladies. Chaps,” Liam messes with Niall’s hair, as he sits down in the grass. “Interesting first day, innit?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m definitely not loving this,” Ella scoffs, pointing at her jumper. “Did you meet the new English teacher?”<br/>
<br/>
“She was actually very nice,” Louis nods, smirking. “And Liam looked at her the entire class.”<br/>
<br/>
“But only because she mentioned Walt Whitman. I’m so excited to read his work for our class this year.”<br/>
<br/>
“Didn’t know you were such an intellectual?” Niall teases.<br/>
<br/>
“Thanks, I’m glad you have so much faith in my intelligence.”<br/>
<br/>
Somehow, they all manage to talk over the other, so the conversation never dies, but at the same time it’s never really clear. Harry only sits, tries to listen, nods whenever someone gives their opinion on something, and that’s it. That’s all the effort and attention he’s willing to give them. Liam occasionally looks at him, smiling.<br/>
<br/>
And it’s good, for a minute.<br/>
<br/>
Louis is talking about some anecdote from a party Harry didn’t go, but he listens, nonetheless. His left hand playing with the grass, so Niall looks at it.<br/>
Without interrupting Louis, he grabs his hand to check his wrist.<br/>
<br/>
He’s still wearing the ‘Leeds’ bracelet.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Oh my god. </em><br/>
<em><br/>
</em>From there it’s all slow-motion.<br/>
Niall reads the small “Leeds” written in a red bold logo, frowns, tilts his head, puts Louis’ hand back in the grass as he keeps talking, ignoring the situation. He looks at the grass, looks at Harry, looks at Louis, and it clicks.<br/>
It totally clicks.<br/>
<br/>
Harry looks at Louis.<br/>
<br/>
Louis keeps talking.<br/>
<br/>
Niall looks at the grass.<br/>
And the fact he hasn’t even moved a muscle on his face is unsettling.<br/>
<br/>
Harry’s heart pounding against his chest.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Did Louis notice it?<br/>
<br/>
Fucking Louis.<br/>
<br/>
Fucking bracelet.<br/>
<br/>
</em>(Actually, he secretly loves the fact he’s still wearing it.)<br/>
<br/>
Harry doesn’t notice when they stopped talking.<br/>
<br/>
“Niall? Are you alright, mate?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry turns to look at him immediately, as he also turns and looks at Liam and breathes a soft: “yeah, I am.”<br/>
<br/>
He feels Louis’ confused stare, but Harry’s eyes are only fixated on Niall, who shakes his head and smiles. “Oh, do go on. Don’t mind me I was just – thinking.”<br/>
<br/>
“Wow, that’s news,” Louis teases, smiling only with the corners of his mouth.<br/>
<br/>
“Shut up,” Niall squints his eyes, a brief grin on his face that vanishes quickly, as he gives Harry a small glance.<br/>
<br/>
No expression.<br/>
<br/>
Harry’s dying to know what’s on his mind.<br/>
<br/>
Because when the bell rings and they have to go back to class, he misses the opportunity to ask him about it. He kind of vanishes, which kills Harry inside.<br/>
<br/>
The thing is: Niall is a talker, not a thinker.<br/>
If anything, he’ll find the chance to talk to him and ask.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe he didn’t notice, maybe he did but won’t say anything. Maybe he always knew.<br/>
<br/>
The only chance he’ll have to talk him about it is at Sarah’s house, waiting for the call to know if they won the audition.<br/>
<br/>
And that’s too many things to worry about for someone like Harry.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
° ° °<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
“Do you think it’s better to live in blissful ignorance or to know everything about everything and be miserable?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry swings in Sarah’s macrame chair, peeling an orange. <em><br/>
</em><br/>
“Really, H? Today?”<br/>
<br/>
“My hands are sweating. My only way to cope now is to ask –“<br/>
<br/>
“Stop messing around with Bukowski then. S’no good for your head, you know?”<br/>
<br/>
“Shush, now’s the good part.”<br/>
<br/>
Mitch turns up the volume to “Paranoid Android”, while he smokes and closes his eyes. Harry moves his chair with his feet to make himself spin on his axis, as he eats a slice of his fruit. It’s acidic, but since he’s high he feels its taste intensely on his mouth.<br/>
<br/>
He hears Thom Yorke’s voice resonating in his chest, and he’s not sure if that happens because he’s high or since he loves this part just as much as Mitch.<br/>
<br/>
He gets to the conclusion that “Ok Computer” is a masterpiece.<br/>
Especially when Thom sings “God loves his children” following an insane guitar solo, breaking the ambient and waking him up from his train of thoughts.<br/>
<br/>
“I aspire to be this good, oh my god,” Mitch chuckles as the next songs starts to play. “Well, I think you shouldn’t talk over this song, or the entire album, but go ahead.”<br/>
<br/>
“We don’t need permission,” Sarah smirks, “so… when are they supposed to call?”<br/>
<br/>
“According to their mail, in ten minutes.”<br/>
<br/>
“Can’t do ten minutes,” Harry ends up eating the orange completely, not noticing when he’s already done with it.<br/>
<br/>
“Is Niall coming over?”<br/>
<br/>
“He is, yeah,” Harry spins one more time to stop himself with his feet. “I guess. I don’t know.”<br/>
<br/>
“Is everything ok?”<br/>
<br/>
“I think he might found out that I went to Leeds with Louis.”<br/>
<br/>
He feels their stares on him, almost immediately. Only music filling up the room.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
And it’s funny, it’s like the third time he’s seen Mitch with a real expression in his face.<br/>
<br/>
“But when? How?” Sarah looks actually concerned.<br/>
<br/>
“Louis forgot to take off his Leeds bracelet.”<br/>
<br/>
“But we reminded him when we dropped you both!”<br/>
<br/>
“He forgot,” Harry shrugs, quirking a brow, as he plays unconsciously with the orange peel.<br/>
<br/>
“And do you think he’ll keep the secret?”<br/>
<br/>
“Maybe, it’s just hoping for the best now.”<br/>
<br/>
They hear a clear horn from outside, so they take a look by the window.<br/>
<br/>
It’s Niall.<br/>
<br/>
Right when the phone starts ringing.<br/>
<br/>
Again, it goes in slow-mo as if it were a movie: Mitch drops the keys by the window, Niall catches them as he makes his way up to Sarah’s room and she picks up, sitting in her bed with Mitch and Harry trying to listen.<br/>
<br/>
“Hello? Yes, it’s me. Sarah. Sarah Jones. I’m from – no we don’t have a name yet. Sure, of course. We can sort that out. Yes. We did, actually. We have it. Where? We play two Friday’s a month. Berlin. That’s the name of the club, not the – yes. Oh, I see,” her expression drops quickly, and so does Harry’s heart. “We do, we do. We’re four. There’s four of us.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry glances Mitch subtly massaging her shoulders, as he tries to listen too. Niall is standing in front of the bed, confused.<br/>
<br/>
“I can manage that. I’ll talk to them. How many? One, ok. Sounds brilliant. Thanks. Have a nice day,” Sarah’s about to hang out when she hears someone still talking, so she asks, “Yes? Oh, well… the name of the band for now is –“<br/>
<br/>
They start looking at each other, looking for some quick inspiration from Sarah’s room. Harry looks at Mitch’s shirt and it says, “It’d be a lot cooler if you did.”<br/>
<br/>
“Where’s that from?” Harry asks, whispering.<br/>
<br/>
“Dazed and Confused?” Mitch shrugs, quirking a brow.<br/>
<br/>
“Tell him “The Dazed and Confused” maybe?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes!” She whispers, “The Dazed and Confused,” Sarah responds back quickly over the phone, smirking as she listens. “Will do. Thank you so much, bye.”<br/>
<br/>
She finally hangs up, not looking at the boys, as she leaves it on the bed and takes a deep breath.<br/>
<br/>
“So?” Harry asks, impatiently.<br/>
<br/>
Sarah raises her head and brows, hiding a smile. “So what?”<br/>
<br/>
“Come on, don’t be so dramatic!”<br/>
<br/>
She shrugs, and whispers: “I think we got in.”<br/>
<br/>
“No fucking way.”<br/>
<br/>
“YES FUCKING WAY, WE GOT IN!” Sarah bursts into joy. Literally. “WE WON THE AUDITION!”<br/>
<br/>
And the funny thing is that Harry lost all hope of winning it the minute they got off stage, back at the end of July.<br/>
<br/>
He got the lyrics wrong, missed a cue and Niall got a bit of a stage fright up there. There were only three people listening to them; a journalist, a producer and some guy whose name he never learned since it was a weird, French one. He never got to read their faces, so he was pretty convinced they fucked up.<br/>
<br/>
Needless to say that a few months ago that situation would’ve depressed him, now it only made him practice even more during the summer. So there’s that.<br/>
<br/>
However, they send an email for them to expect a call by the first days of September.<br/>
<br/>
So that’s what they did.<br/>
<br/>
And they’re in.<br/>
<br/>
They’re opening for The Flaming Lips at <em>the</em> Astoria.<br/>
<br/>
Holy. Fucking. Shit.<br/>
<br/>
So Niall jumps onto the bed, hugging Mitch and Sarah and they cackle so loud but not loud enough to wake Harry from his shocked-state.<br/>
<br/>
“Harry? What are you thinking?”<br/>
<br/>
“Are you serious?” He asks, his voice barely there.<br/>
<br/>
“I am serious!”<br/>
<br/>
“Us? At the Astoria?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah!” Sarah raises her brows, holding Harry by his arms, “Why aren’t you more excited?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry tries to speak, then smiles, then opens his mouth to speak again, and suddenly all of his anxiety –from the first day of school, to the Niall situation, to this, to the usual overthinking—suddenly starts manifesting through his body.<br/>
He feels tears behind his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, you fool, come here,” Sarah pouts as she hugs him. Harry can smell her perfume and, until that moment, he realizes how used he is to it, how it comforts him. He feels Mitch and Niall hugging him too, so he giggles.<br/>
<br/>
“I thought we were not going to make it,” Harry sniffles, nuzzling into Sarah’s hug.<br/>
<br/>
“Of course we were, we’re all amazing,” she chuckles, “I mean, we got there for a reason, innit?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, don’t underestimate yourself,” Mitch says, “Or us. We’re cool too.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry closes his eyes for an instant as he tries to explain himself, “I don’t want to disappoint, I just –“<br/>
<br/>
“You’ll not,” Niall interrupts him, “And we have, what, like two months to get ready? It’s going to be amazing, I promise.”<br/>
<br/>
“But what if he falls on stage?”<br/>
<br/>
“Babe, now’s not a good time.”<br/>
<br/>
“But <strong>what if</strong>? I mean, we have to be ready.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry starts laughing as they let go of the hug. Then he remembers.<br/>
<br/>
“Shit, I need to call my dad. And my mum, she asked me to call her too. And –“ His name was right on his lips the moment he stopped himself from saying it out loud. “And Gemma.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’ll go tell my dad downstairs,” Sarah leaves the bed and Mitch walks behind her.<br/>
<br/>
So now it’s Niall and Harry only.<br/>
<br/>
Niall looks at him, pressing his lips, as he tries to meet Harry’s eyes. Harry only can look at the floor, anxiously playing with his mood ring. A ring Louis gave him at Leeds that changes colors depending on his temperature. Now, it’s green.  <br/>
<br/>
“Since when?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry looks up. Niall’s expression is both concerned and happy, for some reason.<br/>
<br/>
“When what?”<br/>
<br/>
“Come on, you know I saw it.”<br/>
<br/>
“Saw what?”<br/>
<br/>
Niall smirks, looks at the phone in the bed while they hear Sarah’s parents talking downstairs.<br/>
<br/>
“Do you want to talk about it?”<br/>
<br/>
“About what?” Harry chuckles.<br/>
<br/>
“Harry!”<br/>
<br/>
“Alright, alright,” he looks down again, “we’ve been… something since May.”<br/>
<br/>
“MAY?!”<br/>
<br/>
Niall’s eyes wide open, mouth agape, blinking several times.<br/>
<br/>
“But I’ve liked him since January.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, no shit. I mean, I guess I knew you kind of fancied him but I never knew it was actually mutual.”<br/>
<br/>
“It is. I… guess.”<br/>
<br/>
“You guess? How does that work?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry fixes his hair, “I don’t want to assume he feels the exact same way, but we’ve been… getting to know each other a lot and – I don’t know, Niall. I really really like him.”<br/>
<br/>
A slow smile starts drawing on his face, “then if that’s the case it’s ok, right? Does it feel right?”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s the best feeling in the world.”<br/>
<br/>
Niall quietly nods, and frowns, “Louis has a girlfriend, right?”<br/>
<br/>
“Well, I mean –“<br/>
<br/>
“No, no. I get it. I never saw any chemistry there, actually. It never made sense. Louis is a totally different person than El like –“ He starts laughing, like, actually laughing. “Oh my god, everything makes sense now. You being all mopey when you both stopped talking, Louis sudden aggressiveness, your… love bite. Oh. Harry. Oh –“<br/>
<br/>
“What?”<br/>
<br/>
“Does it mean you both..?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry looks out the window, giving him his froggy-smile, “what do you think?”<br/>
<br/>
“Well… I’m not going to ask anything else for the sake of my mental health,” Niall grins, then pats the bed. “Cme on, sit.”<br/>
<br/>
“M'not your bloody dog,” Harry complains, but he sits anyway.<br/>
<br/>
“I just wanted to tell you I’m ok with it, you don’t have to hide it from me because there’s nothing to hide. It’s your life after all. If you want me to keep it a secret, then I’ll keep it a secret. You can trust me.”<br/>
<br/>
“Can I?”<br/>
<br/>
They look at each other, and Harry quite remembers those sleepovers they used to have when they were younger. The things they used to talk. He remembers that night when Niall told him about his biggest fears or the one thing that makes him cry every time –to think about his mum dying too soon—or the first times they started fancying people, and how awkward they used to get. They were a team. They used to tell each other stuff.<br/>
<br/>
Of course Harry can trust him.<br/>
<br/>
“Why is that a question?” Niall shakes his head, pressing a smile.<br/>
<br/>
Harry sighs, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this before.”<br/>
<br/>
“At least we’re talking about it now, right?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, yeah,” he feels himself whispering, unable to speak louder.<br/>
<br/>
“You know I love you, and that I’ll be there no matter what.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry leans in to hug him and Niall, carefully as he can be with his big hands, pats him three times in the back. “The only thing I’m going to ask, though, is that I don’t want you to tell me a single thing about your sexual… life, whatever, with Louis. I don’t wanna imagine it.”<br/>
<br/>
“But what if it’s for lyric purposes –“<br/>
<br/>
“Nope. Absolutely not. Don’t wanna picture it.”<br/>
<br/>
“Will it make it easier for you if we pretend it’s about David Beckham?”<br/>
<br/>
Niall stares, deadpan, and then squints his eyes. “Yeh, I can do that.”<br/>
<br/>
“Can we also pretend it’s about Mel C? I mean, I don’t see why not –“<br/>
<br/>
Harry turns to Sarah, “I thought we were already doing that.”<br/>
<br/>
“Imagine how I feel about it,” Mitch throws himself to the bed.<br/>
<br/>
“Nope, stop it. We’re not imagining any kind of real sexual lives here for any lyrical purposes. It’s all about David Beckham and Mel C,” Niall tries to stay serious but then starts giggling, just like the rest of them.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, Harry, the phone’s available by the way.”<br/>
<br/>
“Wait, did you also know about…?”<br/>
<br/>
“Louis? Yeah, definitely,” Mitch nods.<br/>
<br/>
“We were the first ones.”<br/>
<br/>
“We?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, you’re not the first one to know,” Harry starts walking out the room, as he leaves behind an agape Niall, and Sarah and Mitch laughing.<br/>
<br/>
He takes out the little paper with Louis’ phone number from work, and dials.<br/>
<br/>
Two rings.<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Hold on.”<br/>
<br/>
</em>His voice sounds serious, like he’s in the middle of a conversation.<br/>
<br/>
<em>“I’m pretty sure we don’t have it yet, love, but here. Here’s our number so you can call and ask maybe… next Monday, I think. We’ll get the new stock on Friday but I can’t promise you anything.”<br/>
<br/>
</em>Harry can hear a distant response from a feminine voice. Louis’ fake laugh coming up.<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m sure it’s sold out everywhere, but I’ll try to reserve it for you. It’s ok. Don’t worry, dear. Yeah, I’ll let you know. See you!”<br/>
</em><br/>
Now he hears a sigh, and then he finally picks up.<br/>
<br/>
<em>“J-ello? May I help you?”</em><br/>
<br/>
Harry blushes. “That’s the most adorable hello ever.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Hey, curly. I figure you called because you won the audition, right?” </em><br/>
<br/>
He starts playing with the phone cord, “indeed. They just called. We’re playing with The Flaming fucking Lips by the end of October!”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“See, I knew that was gonna happen. It’s nice to hear the confirmation, though.” </em><br/>
<br/>
“Now our band has a name.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Really? What is it? Tell me Niall didn’t pick it up.” </em><br/>
<br/>
“I did, actually. It was an improvised situation.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Alright, shoot.”</em><br/>
<br/>
“The Dazed and Confused.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Mmm,”</em> Louis mumbles<em>, “I like it. Hopefully, people won’t mistake it for the song. Or the magazine. Or the movie.”<br/>
</em><br/>
“Now there’s a band called like that, so they have the whole combo.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis giggles, <em>“It sounds cool, though. Don’t get me wrong. I wonder who’s the dazed and who’s the confused.”<br/>
<br/>
</em>“I’m <span class="u">the</span> confused. I’m confused all the time.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry finally hears his real laugh, somehow warm even by the phone. <em>“I’d love to say no but that’s just the truth.”<br/>
<br/>
</em>“By the way, Niall knows about us now.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Nice one, Harry. Not very amusing, though, but you tried.”<br/>
<br/>
</em>“I’m serious.” Louis doesn’t respond, so Harry starts giggling. “He found out by himself.”<br/>
<br/>
“But… how?”<br/>
<br/>
“Someone forgot to take off his Leeds bracelet. He saw my love bite. He knew I went to Leeds too. Wasn’t that hard for him to make assumptions. He’s – not that dumb.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Shit,” </em>Louis hisses through his teeth<em>. “I’m so so sorry. It won’t happen again.”<br/>
<br/>
</em>“Nah, no worries. It was time for it to happen, eventually.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“But is everything ok?”</em><br/>
<br/>
“Yeah. It is. He’ll keep it a secret.”<br/>
<em><br/>
“Fair enough. What are you doing after –“ </em><br/>
<br/>
“I’ll pick you up.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“But baby, you see, I’m the one who has a car.” </em><br/>
<br/>
“I’ll sprint, then.”<br/>
<br/>
A beat. “Fair enough. See you in a bit, so we can celebrate properly.”<br/>
<br/>
“What do you have in mind?”<br/>
<br/>
Another beat, and whispers. <em>“Remember the thing I wanted to do yesterday that we couldn’t finish?”</em><br/>
<br/>
“I do, pretty clearly. I was there.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Think about it ‘til we get home.”</em><br/>
<br/>
His heart skips a bit just to think about it.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t think I’ll only think about it until then, if you know what I mean.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Oh I know, I’m aware.”</em><br/>
<br/>
Harry’s cheeks hurt since he’s been grinning the entire conversation. “See you in a bit, boo.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>“See you later, Curly.”<br/>
</em><br/>
If Harry’s stomach has been filled with flittering butterflies this entire time, now he thinks it might be his whole body.<br/>
He might disintegrate into just emotions.<br/>
Or love.<br/>
<br/>
He stays downstairs, staring at the phone even if Louis hanged up a while ago.<br/>
<br/>
“Harry, come up! Niall needs to call his dad!”<br/>
<br/>
He runs upstairs, as he tries to stop smiling like an idiot.<br/>
<br/>
“What did your mum said?”<br/>
<br/>
“Mum?” Harry tilts his head, then raises his brows, “Oh! Mum! I’ll call her very quickly, sorry Niall.”<br/>
<br/>
“See? Told you, he called Louis first. He’s totally whipped.”</p><p><br/>
° ° °<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<strong>Saturday. September 25<sup>th</sup>, 1999. 15:31 pm.</strong><br/>
<br/>
Harry walks in.<br/>
<br/>
The store smells like his incense, that specific one he always burns in his room, so he knows Louis is somewhere close. “Beautiful Boy” by John Lennon is filling up the empty space.<br/>
He feels the dark blue carpet appeasing his steps, as he runs his fingers through the different vinyls in display, as if he were a little kid. There’s a blonde woman near the “Metal” section. She’s wearing dark clothes and heavy, black makeup.<br/>
She looks calm.<br/>
<br/>
The store is well lit by daylight, so he doesn’t understand why they would have the lights up still.<br/>
Maybe it’s a store thing, who knows.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey, curly.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis is wearing a different uniform, and it’s not really a uniform. It’s just a black shirt and a tag that says <strong>“Hello, my name is: Louis. Not Lewis !!” </strong><br/>
<br/>
“Hey, Lewis.”<br/>
<br/>
“Veeery funny,” he walks and drops a Marvin Gaye cd near the soul section.<br/>
<br/>
“Good song,” Harry points at the speaker in the ceiling. “Your choice?”<br/>
<br/>
“Not really. I’m not a huge Lennon fan.”<br/>
<br/>
“Why? This song is so sweet.”<br/>
<br/>
“John is a wanker, actually. He used to beat his wife, did ya’ know that?”<br/>
<br/>
“Not because VH1 said that it means it’s true.”<br/>
<br/>
“But it is, his ex-wife said it. Also, this song? He says “goodnight, Sean” by the end as if he didn’t have another kid abandoned somewhere. A deadbeat father, he is.”<br/>
<br/>
“Alright, alright. You can’t deny his music’s good though. And I’m not defending him, mind you.”<br/>
<br/>
“It is. It’s good. Doesn’t make him any less of a wanker.”<br/>
<br/>
The Beatles’ “I Am The Walrus” starts playing.<br/>
<br/>
“Who’s picking the music?”<br/>
<br/>
“John, he’s in his office.”<br/>
<br/>
“Lennon?”<br/>
<br/>
“My boss, Harry,” Louis smirks.<br/>
<br/>
“And what is he doing?”<br/>
<br/>
“He’s making some sort of mixtape for himself. Stealing music, basically.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh,” Harry nods, as he spots a Johnny Mathis album. “I’ve been looking for this one for ages. Didn’t know you have it here.”<br/>
<br/>
“We just got a whole new stash of albums that I’ll have to sort by myself, so yeah.” Louis looks tired, but Harry’s company lightens his shift.<br/>
<br/>
“Can I help?”<br/>
<br/>
“They won’t pay you for it.”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t mind.”<br/>
<br/>
What’s fun about hanging out with him is that they’ve pass the need of constantly talking all the time. Sharing a nice, concentrated silence is just as lovely as talking about anything.<br/>
So Harry arranges the 60’s section, as Louis sells occasionally and marks some of the new stuff.<br/>
<br/>
Which gives them enough time to snog next to the staff lockers.<br/>
<br/>
It's not like people are coming in all the time, anyway.<br/>
<br/>
They’ve made their own little routines so they can meet each other every time they can. Harry aligned Louis’ practice with his own rehearsals; Since Louis started working at the beginning of August, he usually visits him at work –and John doesn’t really care as long as Harry won’t ask him for money for helping out— and studies whenever he’s got time.<br/>
<br/>
His favorite bits, though, are when he gets to go home with Louis.<br/>
Who’s practically living at his house by now.<br/>
<br/>
His least favorites, when he has to visit Eleanor.<br/>
The feeling’s different this time, though.<br/>
He doesn’t feel too anxious for himself, but for Louis.<br/>
<br/>
After all, he’s the one who has to pretend to have a girlfriend.<br/>
<br/>
Harry remembers clearly when he curled up in his bed after having to hanging out with her and her uni friends, the week before Leeds.<br/>
He got into his room, took off his shoes and left them carefully next to the door.<br/>
<br/>
And for that night, Louis was the little spoon.<br/>
<br/>
Harry has noticed how Louis does that often; instead of talking about what’s wrong, he just bottles it up and, if the feeling’s too much, he will cry silently in Harry’s arms –which only happened twice- After a few minutes, he will make a joke about it or change the subject completely. Maybe ask for a cuppa if he feels too blue.<br/>
<br/>
Harry tries to put everything in perspective, to empathize better: is it his dad? Or maybe having to spend time with Eleanor? Is it stress? Is he actually happy? Does he doubt, sometimes? About him? About their relationship?<br/>
<br/>
Because even when their relationship feels strong and warm and the-best-thing-ever, there are some sad bits as well.<br/>
<br/>
Like those moments when they’re talking in the group, and Harry laughs way too much at Louis’ jokes.<br/>
So he has to calm himself down.<br/>
<br/>
Or when they’re walking together and he feels a subtle touch from his elbow, or his arm.<br/>
<br/>
The first time he thought it was an accident.<br/>
Then it started happening often.<br/>
<br/>
Or when he hears Louis’ dad cussing way too loud so they can hear it from their windows, so he knows Louis will get home in a few minutes.<br/>
<br/>
It’s not that sad, but it’s bittersweet.<br/>
<br/>
He wants Louis to visit him because he wants to, not because he has to hide or look for a place to feel safe.<br/>
<br/>
The good bits are amazing, too.<br/>
<br/>
And the thing is, Louis is a super talented writer. He finally got enough courage to show Harry a few poems he wrote last year and it’s very interesting. He has this way of telling stories with enough metaphors to make you feel something but at the same time he makes it easy for you to imagine the story. He evokes different images in words, he makes you feel what he feels, and it’s just so fucking attractive.<br/>
<br/>
Harry offered him to write something together, but he refused. Not because he doesn’t want to work with Harry but because he “wants Harry to be his own writer”. Basically, he was encouraging him to write his songs so when he’s successful –and he said “when” and not “if” because he just knows Harry will be a successful musician, he trusts in him that much—he will be proud of his own work.<br/>
<br/>
Nonetheless, Louis promised to write him songs, for him. Not for him to use, but <em>for </em>him.<br/>
<br/>
Harry feels blissful.<br/>
<br/>
Because he’s been doing that for Louis, for almost seven months.<br/>
<br/>
Seven months.<br/>
<br/>
Which feels like years.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
° ° °<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
On a usual Wednesday, Harry waits all day to hang out with Louis.<br/>
<br/>
Hours go by insufferably slow all the way to 7 pm: the time he can pick him up at his job so they’ll drive to his house.<br/>
<br/>
The rest of people’s conversations are just background noise, all day, as he counts the minutes and the hours and he thinks about what he wants to talk, the things he learned through the day and can’t wait to discuss with Louis over dinner. <br/>
<br/>
During recess he catches him only once, but he’s in the middle of another conversation.<br/>
<br/>
So Harry listens, pretending he’s talking to him, and him only, regardless of Liam’s pointless questions or Ella’s interruptions.<br/>
<br/>
The only time he manages to pay attention is during rehearsal, and only for a bit.<br/>
<br/>
So finally, it is 7 pm.<br/>
<br/>
Harry’s standing outside the store. He glances at Louis, as he’s counting money and moving his head to some song Harry can’t recognize yet.<br/>
<br/>
Louis hasn’t recognized he’s out, so Harry comes in anyways.<br/>
<br/>
“Heeeey, Curly.”<br/>
<br/>
“What is this song?”<br/>
<br/>
“Video Killed the Radio Star,” Louis grins, bouncing on his feet as he dances his way to Harry, moving his hands dramatically. “Mum asked me for an 80’s mixtape so I’m trying it out.”<br/>
<br/>
“Is this the…?”<br/>
<br/>
“First music video from MTV? Indeed.”<br/>
<br/>
“Sick,” Harry starts bouncing too, imitating Louis’ dorky steps. “What if someone comes in?”<br/>
<br/>
“They’ll have to dance too, then,” he says as he takes Harry’s hand and spins him. “Listen to this bit. It’s fantastic.”<br/>
<br/>
They both stop moving and close their eyes, listening to a woman’s voice singing “the radio star” beautifully without an effort.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m a sucker for 80’s pop, I have to admit.”<br/>
<br/>
“Me too, sometimes,” Louis sighs. “Life was way easier back then.”<br/>
<br/>
“I can barely remember something before I was 8.”<br/>
<br/>
“No wonder why you’re happier.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry chuckles, unsure of how to interpret what Louis just said. Before he could ask further, he was already on his way to the lockers to change his uniform.<br/>
<br/>
So he looks around.<br/>
<br/>
After five minutes lurking into the 70’s section, Louis comes back with fresh clothes and his wet a bit humid.<br/>
He walks, no hesitating to give him a tiny kiss on his lips, which takes Harry by surprise.<br/>
<br/>
“Shall we?”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
° ° °<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
Louis’ driving down a long, long street, as the sun slowly sets down behind the buildings.<br/>
<br/>
Harry’s window is completely down, so the wind hits him right in the face.<br/>
They have the radio on, music filling the space between them. It’s not awkward.<br/>
<br/>
Lou’s favorite station – The Revolution – is playing some old shoegaze, so the ambient is quite relaxing. Hypnotizing.<br/>
<br/>
“Sarah loves this one.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah? Is it Heaven or Las Vegas or..?”<br/>
<br/>
“Cherry-coloured funk. Same album, though.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis smiles. The fact that now Harry can recognize all of his different smiles –the fake one, the genuine one, the cheeky one, the teasing one and, well, this one which is a mix of “I wanna tell you something” and “I’m thinking about something, but I can’t tell you”—still astonishes him, to the point he can’t help but wonder how many things he happens to know about Louis, and how many other things are there to discover.<br/>
<br/>
“Haz?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah?”<br/>
<br/>
“What are you thinking about?” Louis asks, eyes concentrated.<br/>
<br/>
The car’s dark and the street lights are just lighting up. Car’s lights reflecting on his face. The blue from his eyes now grey, but still warmer than any color, ever.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re always asking that,” Harry furrows, tilting his head.<br/>
<br/>
“Cause I care. I like what’s in your head.”<br/>
<br/>
He feels himself blushing, “well, right now nothing truly extraordinary, besides maybe that I’d love to play a dulcimer in a song one day.”<br/>
<br/>
“A dulci- what?” Louis giggles, glancing at him quickly.<br/>
<br/>
“Dulcimer. A hammered dulcimer, if you want her full name. It’s a lovely instrument,” Harry leans his head on the back of his seat, looking at Louis. “Imagine a simple 4-note melody, five chords… a dulcimer. Some interesting love story through the lyrics. Solid tune.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis looks back for a second, as he turns the steering wheel with his palm. “What’s stopping you, love?”<br/>
<br/>
“Not having a dulcimer, maybe.”<br/>
<br/>
“Maybe we should look up if someone’s willing to lend you a dulcimer. See how it goes.”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t think anyone here has one,” Harry smiles, his eyes not leaving Louis’ features this time. He looks so young but so wise at the same time. Like he’s growing up at a different speed from his body.<br/>
<br/>
“You can’t just imagine a melody and leave it there. It’s coming at you for a reason.”<br/>
<br/>
“Do you think songs work that way? Like this magical thing that comes to you like –“<br/>
<br/>
“Maybe,” he shrugs. “I mean, you gotta ask yourself why all the good music came out in the 60’s. LSD opens you up. It only comes to the sensitive and the romantic people.”<br/>
<br/>
“But not every song is romantic.”<br/>
<br/>
“No, of course not. But you’ve got to have a certain kind of romanticism for life, right?”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh?” Harry’s smirk turns into a wide grin. His eyes crinkling with Louis’ eyes at the same time.<br/>
<br/>
“I mean… You gotta love it, right? So if it comes up to you, maybe it’s meant to be.”<br/>
<br/>
“Meant to be? Louis Tomlinson talking about things meaning to be?”<br/>
<br/>
“Alright. Fair enough, I take it. Talking about those things doesn’t make me a fate believer or some sort. I just think composition and song-writing are magical things, almost like if it comes from another universe. It just… consumes you. It turns you into a storyteller, lyrically or musically speaking, even if the story is not necessarily yours. I just love it.”<br/>
<br/>
The second he stops talking Harry breathes again, “I feel the same way. I want that feeling for the rest of my life.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’d love to say, ‘me too’ but I’ll probably end up studying engineering or some shit.”<br/>
<br/>
“You see, I used to think the same thing. I wanted to please everyone, I guess, willing to give some other career a try but now I just know music is the thing I’ll do for the rest of my life. If you want to study something else than… engineering then just do it. It’s your future after all.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis stops looking at the street and looks at Harry for five seconds, pressing his lips in a smile, “I’d love to study literature, actually. Or drama. Can you imagine me as an actor?”<br/>
<br/>
“You’d probably eat that up. At this point I’m convinced you can do everything.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis chuckles and keeps driving, now clearly thinking about something.<br/>
<br/>
Suddenly this waning synth lead starts playing, a song with some infectious drum cadence and a siren-like voice. It’s catchy. It feels like it rhymes with the moment, contrasting it perfectly.<br/>
<br/>
Harry doesn’t understand a word.<br/>
<br/>
He’s never heard something so dreamy, yet so vivid. The woman’s voice sounds like something ricocheting on water, hitting Harry in the face and shaking him to the core, giving him goosebumps.<br/>
<br/>
And just like Louis’ trying hard to not close his eyes and immerse himself in the song, Harry looks at him. His hair moving slightly, pushing it back. A shadow of a smile on his beautiful face.<br/>
<br/>
He feels special, mostly because he can kiss that face anytime he wants.<br/>
<br/>
Louis enters the tunnel the second the chorus starts –actually it’s just a da-dow, da-dow, da-dow, da-dow on a loop— their eyes meet in synchrony.<br/>
<br/>
“What is this song?,” Harry asks, incredulous.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t know, but it’s perfect for a tunnel,” Louis grins, looking at the lights passing them by as it reflects on his face again, like fireflies. “This is what I mean with magical, y’know? This is fantastic.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know,” Harry sighs, poking his head out of the window. Feeling the lights and the wind caressing his hair once again. “I can’t recognize who’s singing,” he shouts.<br/>
<br/>
“Is it Liz Fraser?”<br/>
<br/>
“I dunno,” Harry looks at the radio, “maybe they’re going to say the song’s name when it ends.”<br/>
<br/>
They don’t.<br/>
<br/>
It breaks Harry’s heart, naturally.<br/>
<br/>
Coming down from such a high feels weird for a second.<br/>
<br/>
When they’re in the parking lot, Louis takes a deep breath.<br/>
<br/>
“You alright?”<br/>
<br/>
“There’s no one home now. My home. Mum is working, Lottie is staying out tonight. Dad is… somewhere. I think Fiz might be home later but I guess she’s staying out too,” he sighs, hands still on the steering wheel. “Wanna come over?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry nods quite quickly, as he realizes he’s been in Louis’ house just once, when he helped his mum with some bags a long time ago.<br/>
<br/>
Louis nods back, kind of faking a smile.<br/>
Harry noticed by the way his eyes won’t crinkle the way they usually do.<br/>
 <br/>
Somehow, Louis looks nervous. Only looks down the floor all the way to the lift, until they get outside his door.<br/>
<br/>
Before getting the keys, he looks at Harry like he wants to say something, but only manages to press his lips and click his tongue as if he’s saying “fuck it” to himself. Shaking his head, he opens the door.<br/>
<br/>
The living room looks the same as before, this time a bit warmer. Clearer.<br/>
<br/>
Everything looks clean but feels like those model houses you see in magazines, the ones you read when you’re waiting for a doctor’s appointment. The décor and furniture are there, but there’s no life. No home. Doesn’t feel like it.<br/>
<br/>
A green, old sofa with a big television in front, a 4-chair table with an empty vase on top, a small kitchen just like Harry’s. Not a single trace of food or anything. Not even dishes next to the sink.<br/>
<br/>
It feels like nobody’s living there, which for Harry is an odd feeling.<br/>
<br/>
He’s so used to the life in his house he now knows why Louis likes to be there too.<br/>
<br/>
This house is the definition of coldness, stuck somewhere in 1991.<br/>
<br/>
Louis drops the keys in the table and turns to see Harry, who’s looking into the details from the wallpaper; it’s white with little gold details on them, like flowers, and he actually likes it.<br/>
<br/>
Still feels fake.<br/>
<br/>
With two large steps, Louis is in front of him. He asks permission with just a look and leans to kiss him, softly in the lips again. He puts both hands on Harry’s cheeks, cupping him into them. His fingers are cold, contrasting with the warmth from his face.<br/>
<br/>
“I always wanted to kiss you here,” Louis whispers. A smile stuck on his lips and actually not leaving a second later, like it usually does.<br/>
<br/>
“It feels odd, like, this is not my house but it’s the same –“<br/>
<br/>
“The same house, yeah.”<br/>
<br/>
Something in Louis’ sight makes him look as if he’s looking at his living room for the first time too, so Harry can’t help but to ask himself if this is actually his house.<br/>
<br/>
Because Louis looks smaller.<br/>
<br/>
“Come on, I wanna show you my room.”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Oh, his room.<br/>
<br/>
</em>Harry’s been actually daydreaming about Louis’ room for a while. Does he have posters? Some weird cd-collection? What is the color of his sheets? How many pillows does he have?<br/>
<br/>
The first thing he notices is that Louis locks his door when he’s out.<br/>
<br/>
Louis’ room is actually in a very similar position as his, but with different decorations. He only has a mattress on the floor, a small old nightstand, an interior plant on the windowsill, a few boxes, a pile of different books –some bigger than others, but none of them look brand new – some fairy lights above his bed, a red lava lamp, loads of pillows and all of his shoes in a corner, next to the closet. It feels bigger because he doesn’t have a desk like Harry does but, for some reason, it feels smaller too.<br/>
<br/>
“I tried to make it as cool as I could. It’s not a lot, but –“<br/>
<br/>
“It’s cooler than mine,” Harry looks at the ceiling. Some star decals above the bed, the kind that glows in the dark. “Oh, I love those!”<br/>
<br/>
“Look,” Louis turns off the light, so they glow in a clear yet subtle neon green. He turns on the light again. “I used to have them as a kid and I used to imagine they were actually the stars.”<br/>
<br/>
A clear image of a tiny Louis appears on Harry’s mind.<br/>
<br/>
“Didn’t know you had a lava lamp. I always wanted one of these.”<br/>
<br/>
“I bought that one here, a few days before my birthday. Also the fairy lights.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry lies on his bed, “where’s the rest of this?”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s a funny story, actually. I used to fall off the bed a lot back in Donny since I tend to move while I’m sleeping. Mum sort of gave up and bought me a really good mattress instead of a regular bed. Problem solved.”<br/>
<br/>
“But you don’t move a lot when we sleep together.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis lies next to him, “because you’re there. Eventually I started sleeping with more pillows and - I don’t know, maybe something <em>being </em>there helps me not to move too much.”<br/>
<br/>
“Do you sleepwalk?”<br/>
<br/>
“Sometimes, yeah.”<br/>
<br/>
After that sentence, it’s just solid three minutes of staring into his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
Feels like he’s about to say something, but not quite.<br/>
<br/>
“I like your room. I wish we could hang in here.”<br/>
<br/>
“Me too,” Louis takes a deep breath. “Wanna see something cool?”<br/>
<br/>
“I always want to see something cool.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis goes to his closet and, to Harry’s surprise, it’s actually tidy. He picks a small box, sits next to Harry again and opens it.<br/>
<br/>
It’s full of pictures.<br/>
<br/>
“This is little me.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry holds the picture carefully with his fingers, trying not to touch it too much so his fingerprints won’t ruin it.<br/>
<br/>
It's him playing in the park, captured mid-action, with a smile and vibrant colors behind him.<br/>
He looks unbearably adorable.<br/>
<br/>
“I like little you.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis starts bouncing his foot, as Harry looks and pays attention to the rest of the pictures: with his sisters, with his mum, playing, running, with his friends, with his grandparents. He even has a picture of him holding hands with another kid.<br/>
<br/>
No pictures with his dad, though.<br/>
<br/>
His personal favorite: A picture of him, standing in snow, looking small as ever.<br/>
<br/>
It matches Louis’ real energy.<br/>
<br/>
So Harry asks him questions and Louis talks, really talks. He has a moment to fully speak about himself and his childhood. He shows him who’s who and where’s the location from every picture. He opens up a part of his life that for Harry was, in a way, unknown.<br/>
<br/>
He tells him about that time he went to go fishing with his grandpa and cried because that’s when he found out fish die when you catch them, when he was five; about that time he sang Lottie a lullaby one time she had a nightmare, and his mum cried and he thought she did because she didn’t like it. About that time he accidentally stole a chocolate bar from a store and tried to give it back, and the owner appreciated it so much he ended up giving him the bar, and he shared it with his sisters.<br/>
<br/>
He told him about that time he almost got suspended for kicking a ball straight into a window.<br/>
<br/>
During PE.<br/>
<br/>
Or when he saved one of his classmates from choking with food, only because his mom taught him the Heimlich maneuver in case he needed it with the girls.<br/>
<br/>
The stories always involving someone else.<br/>
<br/>
Louis talks about Doncaster with such love that it feels he’ll probably belong there, eternally. The way he describes its streets, parks, the people –oh, the people—who can be warm but can tease you at the same time. And the funny thing is, the moment he starts talking about it his thick accent from the first days comes back, like he’s there again. Suddenly reliving old memories from his beloved small town.<br/>
<br/>
Harry wishes he could feel that way about a place.<br/>
<br/>
A physical one, at least.<br/>
<br/>
“Am I… sorry, am I boring you?”<br/>
<br/>
“Not in the slightest, Lou. I think it’s fascinating. This is fascinating,” a beat, Harry observes the grin drawing on Louis’ face. “You’re fascinating.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis rests his head on Harry’s lap, as Harry runs his fingers through his feather-like hair. “I’d love for you to visit Donny. It’s lovely being there. Feels right, y’know?”<br/>
<br/>
“Do you want to go back?”<br/>
<br/>
“Nooo, no,” he quickly frowns. “As much as I love being there, it’s not where I want to grow old. It could happen, though. Maybe after I’m seventy, who knows. For now I’m just a small town boy, who’s trying to find his place in the world,” Louis mocks a dramatic tone, a Julia-Roberts-in-Notting-Hill kind of tone. “I have somewhere I belong, at least. And that’s enough for me.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry closes his eyes, thinking about the word “belong” in his mind for a second. He’s never really belonged anywhere, besides his room. He has no anchor. No safety net, whatsoever.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t really belong anywhere, I think.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis looks up, trying to meet his eyes. “You don’t like it here?”<br/>
<br/>
“No, not really. Feels a bit dull, you know? Empty. This city feels like a bus stop.”<br/>
<br/>
“You wanna leave for California, mister California-kind-of-person?”<br/>
<br/>
“Maybe,” he doesn’t recognize his voice, now small. “I don’t know. Now I feel more like a London kind of person.”<br/>
“I like London too.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry smiles, softly as he thinks his words while he’s saying them. “I guess I’m too scared of change, but at the same time I’m scared of being stuck here forever.”<br/>
<br/>
“Too afraid to move and too afraid to stay still?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis knows <em>exactly</em> what he’s talking about.<br/>
<br/>
His eyes, a tad colored dark blue, suddenly enlighten as a thought and an answer go through Louis’ mind.<br/>
<br/>
“You do what takes less time, then. The fear you can overcome once you’re done with it. A city is not gonna move, but you can. That fear will be nothing but temporary. Staying still, though, is a long-term scary feeling.”<br/>
<br/>
“It is,” Harry whispers. “Especially if you think about the fact you’ll have to work to leave this place, with a  chance of growing up into a… probably functional adult, with no time to make friends, real friends. Therefore, ending up alone.”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t wanna grow up,” Louis whispers back. “Alone, at least.”<br/>
<br/>
“Do we have a say on that?”<br/>
<br/>
“On growing up alone?”<br/>
<br/>
“On growing up,” Harry giggles, as he runs a hand through Louis’ hair, pushing it back.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t know. Grandpa told me it’s like an acquired taste.”<br/>
<br/>
“Growing up alone?”<br/>
<br/>
“Growing up,” Louis titters. “Except that, like raisins, you end up pretending you like it.”<br/>
<br/>
“But I do like raisins,” Harry protests.<br/>
<br/>
He shakes his head, pressing a teasing smile, “no you don’t. No one who’s sane likes raisins.”<br/>
<br/>
Harry giggles, “you don’t like avocados.”<br/>
<br/>
“So?”<br/>
<br/>
“Nobody who’s actually sane dislikes avocados.”<br/>
<br/>
“Everyone’s entitled to their taste, right?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah.”<br/>
<br/>
Louis takes his hand right to Harry’s face. “I like you, Harry. I’m still sane, right?”<br/>
<br/>
Blood rushes to his cheeks, “no, you’re not. And we’re talking about food.”<br/>
<br/>
“Same difference?”<br/>
<br/>
Harry leans in, his nose touching Louis’. “I like you too, am I sane?”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t think so, no.”<br/>
<br/>
And Harry knows it. Knows how, in those words, there’s a lot more than just than teasing.<br/>
<br/>
This is more than just liking him.<br/>
<br/>
And the obviousness on his demeanor, on the way he looks at him, screams louder than any word he could actually say out loud.<br/>
The overwhelming feeling of just… knowing, and not being able to say it directly, makes him want to tear up a little. Not because of fear of being vulnerable, but for the fact that he might not be feeling the same way. That he’s rushing.<br/>
<br/>
So Harry will trust his actions speak for him. Maybe Louis will get it and will correspond him,  eventually, if that ever happens.<br/>
<br/>
Some things are better left unsaid.<br/>
<br/>
Harry kisses him in response.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t want to go to school tomorrow.”<br/>
<br/>
“Wanna skip?”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t think we should.”<br/>
<br/>
“Let’s fake sick,” Louis grins, grabbing Harry’s face and giving him more little kisses, not letting him speak or answer to his proposition. He sits and tries to meet his face properly, his fingers moving to his hair and his mouth trying to kiss him deeper. A familiar action for Harry. He knows where it could lead to.<br/>
<br/>
“But what if –“<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t care,” Louis pants, sounding serious.<br/>
<br/>
And for a second, Harry doesn’t care either.<br/>
<br/>
Even if Louis’ dad comes in and catches them kissing, he doesn’t care.<br/>
<br/>
Even if the entire school finds out about them, Harry doesn’t give a shit.<br/>
<br/>
And it’s momentarily liberating.<br/>
<br/>
Later that night, Harry goes back to his house alone since Louis is planning on staying tomorrow night.<br/>
<br/>
The words still stuck on his throat bother him, so much to the point he needs to write some thoughts down.<br/>
<br/>
So he writes,<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<strong>i wish there was a way to tell if you’re <strike>actually</strike> in love<br/>
<br/>
something clear, objective - </strong><strong>like a scientific method<br/>
<br/>
something tangible<br/>
<br/>
i wish i could speak up about it, sure as i know for a fact that gravity exists<br/>
<br/>
for now, i’m happy just to lie down with your face next to mine, waking up to the thousand colors of the sky reflecting on your infinite, iridescent eyes<br/>
<br/>
(i hope it’s not a temporary feeling)<br/>
<br/>
for now, i’m glad you exist<br/>
<br/>
isn’t it amazing how people can feel like home? </strong></p>
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